Reminiscent Hearts
by Reaper-Keaton
Summary: When all else fails, let time take you away. Or, in this case, let it pull you forward and once again to the one you love. Even if you have odd ways of showing it. A story about second chances. GinxRan Ulquihime Swear warning! AU
1. Prologue

To declare; I do not own Bleach. Had I, things would be much smoother and Aizen would be six feet under.

Also, quick note, this story will be developmental. And a little AU, as earlier stated. I don't honestly know if it'll be good or not, and I can't promise perfect grammar, but try to give me a chance. And if I don't deserve that chance, let me know why, please. Either way, enough distractions. Please enjoy!

* * *

"Gin, you dummy! What'd you do this time? You're a mess!"

"Nah, Ran, it ain't tha' bad. Jus' some cuts an' bru-"

"We can't afford to buy anymore clothes, and now you're gonna stand out way too much! _I'm_ gonna have to do all the work tonight..." The young girl hurried about the room, fixing what the pair pitifully called a bed. Her blue eyes were troubled, and deftly avoided contact with the perpetually grinning face staring in from the doorway. The boy, too lanky and thin to be a proper one, was decorated with a series of wounds and was wearing one of the most devious expressions to be displayed on the human persona. His appearance held the innocent guile of a fox, with seemingly permanent squinted eyes and a grin fit to split his face.

"S'all right, Ran. It ain't nothin' I can' take care of. Then, 'fore ya know it, Ah'll be out 'earning' us a livin'. No need ta worry, ya hear me?" His easy-going manner seemed to finally break through to her, and she heaved a deep sigh and looked away.

"Gin... You fool..." She had slumped, looking almost dejected. Gin, seizing the opportunity, approached. Her anger had died down spectacularly, and he was rather hoping that touching her wouldn't cause a temper flare-up. She had a rather terrifying side when livid. But, it was a chance he would have to take. With a brief hesitation, he crouched down to her level and wrapped his arms around her.

"Ran, I promise ya, Ah'll help ya, an' Ah'll keep us safe. I ain't gonna let ya go. I worked way too hard jus' ta save ya. Now, I wan' ya to rest, an' Ah'm gonna go get us some food." Briskly he stood and, with a casual glance over his retreating form, gave her a quick wave. "Bye-bye Ran. Be back in a few."

Rangiku scoffed the moment Gin dropped out of earshot, her eyes watering slightly. Yes, he would no doubt be back. The age-old question was, when?

With a sigh, she pulled herself to her feet, tying to ignore her body's cry for food. It was stupid, to need food **after **being dead. She had always hoped, no, assumed, that death brought solace. Isn't that what they were taught in the world of the Living? Be good, and you will be provided? It was one of the only things she remembered from her previous life. The actual reality of life-after-death was far more brutal that that. Food was too scarce, water near-impossible to find, and thievery usually the only resort for two young children lost in the Rukongai.

At least Gin was good at stealing. Creepy kid.

Her brow furrowed as she looked at the near-barren 'kitchen'. Really, it was just a box holding a few choice pieces of food, but it gave her an immense comfort to use such a sophisticated word. It was precisely the reason why she had dubbed this corner a bedroom, and that corner a living room. It was relaxing to see their hovel become a home in her mind. Even if the place was covered in dirt and ivy, it was perfect. And that was all that truly mattered.

A quick review produced some old potatoes, a carrot, and a few pieces of beef jerky. She was rather excited at the prospect of eating meat for a change. It was hard to come by such a treat. Digging a bit more, she even managed to find a small onion. Stew it was. A good thing, she supposed, what with the nights getting colder. A warm meal would keep them more comfortable when the sun finally set. As she started preparing the meagre dinner, she moaned aloud in frustration. The only knife they had was currently in Gin's possession, no doubt being used to separate change-purses from unlucky owners. She would have to use what she could find. With a last sigh of resignation, she picked up a sharpened rock. Gin definitely owed her. Maybe he could bring some bread back... A girl could hope.

* * *

As predicted, a frigid air seeped into the room when the sun sunk behind the distant hills. In a sad attempt to stay warm, Gin had lit a stub of a candle. It had barely lasted ten minutes, and even the small amount of heat it threw did little to abolish the chill. Now, they relied on each other for warmth, huddling under a thinned and holed blanket. Under the oppressive darkness, Rangiku's hand found her companion's.

"Gin... Promise me... Promise you won't leave me. Please?" Her voice was thick with sleep, and her small frame shook beside him.

He remained silent, waiting for her breathing to deepen and even out before he responded in a whisper. "I promise ya, Ran. I migh' go 'way for a li'l bit, but I ain't gonna leave ya. Ya'd have ta kill me firs'."

* * *

A.N. So, this is my first story, and I plan for it to be a long one. I'll be doing a full coupling list once I figure out who I can throw in without there being any awkward moments. We'll see.

Just to let you guys know, the story will NOT be in their childhood. And the chapters are usually going to be considerably longer. Please give it a chance!

Anyways, reviews are much appreciated, criticism loved, and flames used on small children. Remember, dear reviewers, flame responsibly.

Also, a quick coupling list, as promised by the summary;  
GinxRan  
UlquiorraxOrihime  
These are the ones I'll be focusing on FOR NOW, and the rest will be a treat. I'm sorry if you disagree with either couple, but don't message me to point out the sin in my ways. Just hitting the back button will be much more effective, and save you a deal of time.


	2. Overcome the Fear

All right, Chapter 2! There's a good bit of swearing in this, so you can't say I didn't warn you. Also, the 3rd chapter is already written, so I might even have it out by tomorrow. We'll see how motivated I am. Thanks to anyone who reads this, by the way! And a BIG thanks to ShyWaterAngel for being my first ever reviewer! There'll be more scenes from childhood, I promise!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, and my flimsy plot ideas support that claim.

*SPOILERS ABOUND!*

* * *

Karakura, he decided, was an interesting little town. Even the Soul Society replica earned points in his books. He was pretty sure that there was some kind of game centre directly below him, and over there looked to be a giant surveillance area. Although, only having four screens, even if they were _apparently_ the size of a building, was a pretty big surveillance issue. How could they keep an eye on an entire town with so few screens? No wonder the place was always being attacked and falling apart! And quite literally, he mused, as he watched Ms. Hallibel fly through a bridge. Such a temperamental woman, just going and destroying everything. At least she looked like she was still winning.

He turned his head to focus on her opponent, a tiny, livid little thing. He was pretty sure the kid's face was going red from anger, and was that spittle flying as he yelled? Perhaps he'd have to go teach the kid some manners... Nah, Hallibel seemed to be doing just fine, and besides, he was sure Rangiku wouldn't be too happy if he killed her captain. She'd probably get pretty angry with him, and then where would he be?

For a brief moment, he let himself to think of her, to remember her golden hair and lively blue eyes... He could see her, even, as she laughed, danced, _bled... _He banished the thought, shuddering. He couldn't bear seeing her hurt. But, for all he knew, she **could** be lying dead. Yes, it was probably best not to think, not of that. A familiar rietsu pulled him from his thoughts, and he smiled upon recognizing Izuru. The feeling was much stronger than when Gin had left, and it had a darker, more blood-thirsty touch to it. He allowed himself to be proud, if only for a second. He really did like that kid.

Behind him, Aizen was ranting about something. He couldn't honestly say he was listening. Aizen was, in a way, the only man Gin had ever really respected. He had taken him under wing, and had raised him to be the deadly, efficient man he was today. But... He had also forced him to give up on the woman he loved. To protect her, he had distanced himself, leaving her for longer and longer periods of time. He had hoped to wean himself off of her, to be able to exist independently. Yet, he found himself always returning to her side. And every time he went back, he was reminded of how much she would get hurt, and so the cycle would renew.

Muted voices swept past him, full of anger, hate, and shock. Aizen's little lapdog was even sobbing. He refocused his attention across the battlefield, absent-mindedly picking out signatures. Seemed Tousen had just gone to fight (most predictably) Komamura. That would probably be a good one... His eyes slid open in mild alarm, shifting to his left. Aizen was on the move.

He could see the ex-Shinigami fighting below him, and vaguely wondered where Aizen actually was. It was pointless, he knew, to just look for the man. He was an illusion _master_ for a reason. With that thought, he took a quick peek around for the Ryouka kid. **He'd** be able to see him...

At first, he had been looking for mass destruction, or maybe explosions, expecting the boy to be fighting as 'gracefully' as he had thus far displayed. Instead, the kid was just standing there. Staring. Straight ahead. How boring.

"I don' even thin' he's blinkin'... Migh' as well fix tha'..."

With one last cursory glance at the fight below him, he flash-stepped forward, not even bothering to stifle his rietsu. Seemed Momo had been stabbed, and Kurosaki was finally reacting. Just as he pulled forward, Gin caught him under the chin with the flat of his blade and sent him flying back.

It was time he had a chat with the Deathberry.

* * *

He could smell death, fear, blood, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. People - his _friends_ - were dying all around him, screaming and cursing the blades that took them down. And yet, every curse was drilled into his mind and heart, as if he himself had dealt the final blow. He was supposed to be _helping_ and he couldn't even move! Because... If he moved... He couldn't risk it. Anything but that all-consuming, unbelievable darkness. He didn't think he could pull back a second time... He flinched as a small Arrancar, a tiger, got stabbed by the second Captain's sword. The scream didn't sound human or Hollow, just empty. Terrified or lonely, maybe. He remembered when Sora had died, his eyes filled with love and unshed tears for his baby sister. And Grimmjow, who felt shame in being looked down on. _He_ had died alone and betrayed. Of course, he also thought of Ulquiorra. What kind of heartless 'beast' reached out for the small hand of an innocent human girl? Each 'monster' had shown some kind of emotion. They were all the same, Hollow and Shinigami alike. And now they were all dying. It wasn't fair. They didn't deserve this.

He blinked back fearful tears, and stared back down at the battlefield. At the sight, his mouth went dry and his stomach plummeted...

"Guys... GUYS! What the hell are you doing?"

Momo. Hinamori Momo. They'd stabbed her. Why? Why the _**fuck**_ would the stab her? Aizen was the bad guy, not her. What the fuck?

He sprinted forward, confused and more than a little scared. He hadn't made it more than a few steps when he felt cold metal on his neck. Out of pure instinct, he raised his sword and tensed his body, preparing for the deathblow. Instead, he felt himself flying, before he made harsh impact with stone. Regardless of the pain, he scrambled to his feet. He couldn't die, not yet. But... could he fight? He might lose control... He was pummelled again to the side before he finally realized who was standing before him. He had fought this man, once, and not that long ago. Had it really been such a short time? It felt like he had aged more than he could stand, and he doubted Hell itself could show him half the horrors he had witnessed.

"Ya gonna stare at mah pretty face all day, or ya gonna figh' like a man?"

That mocking voice grated his nerves, and he finally gave full attention to the silver-haired traitor. "Why the hell are you doing this? What do you have to gain? Look at how many people are getting hurt because of your actions!"

"_Mah _actions are hurtin' people? 'Scuse me, but ain't you the one tha' barged right on in ta the Soul Society and wreaked havoc? I thin' we're on th' same boat. 'Side, ya don' like mah actions, jus' beat me. Though, I doubt ya could. Yer shakin' in yer boots like a six-day kit. An' yer the Soul Society's onl' hope... Well, there goes 'nother fine civilization..."

Ichigo opened his mouth, retort sharp on his tongue, before he realized how right the man was. He could see his hands shaking and his sword wavering. His spirit felt like it was being crushed. His shock was so absolute that he barely moved in time to catch Ichimaru's blade as it swung for his head. He started, staring down wide-eyed at his foe. Pale blue eyes looked up to meet him from the lowered perspective. The grin was there, demonic and frightening, and yet none of that sadistic humor was mirrored in those eyes. But there was an emotion, nameless and buried deep within his soul. It seemed to be reaching out, shining through Gin's eyes like a beacon. But before Ichigo got a chance to analyze it, the eyes slid shut and the onslaught continued. His eyes may have spared the insanity, but his movements held the sadistic nature in every stanza of this fight. Each jab had enough power to kill, yet had none of the intent. The man was playing with him.

"So, you really thin' you can beat Aizen? You don' know a thin' 'bout him - or this war, fer tha' matter."

Ichigo grit his teeth, tiring of the mocking. His friends were **dying**. He was sick of these stupid jokes.

"Hows 'bout Ah give ya few tips?"

His body froze, completely against his will. _What_ had that man just said?

"Aizen's bigges' flaw is his pride. You use tha' gainst him, yer all set. All ya gotta do is change his plans. Li'l surprise here, li'l trick there. Bring 'em right to his knees. Fact, I thin' tha's yer first surprise there. Always did like tha' girl!"

Ichigo spun around, catching familiar rietsu. No way had she... But his senses hadn't lied. Because, there, on top of _his_ old house, stood Orihime Inoue,

With two 'dead' Espada at her sides.

* * *

She couldn't feel anything. Not the cuts nor the blood on her hands, not even the wind that was still blowing. Her body was completely numb and just simply going through the movements. Inside, however, her heart and spirit were dying. She could still _see_ him, his hand reaching out for hers and his eyes pleading. Oh, his eyes... How could she ever forget eyes like those? Beautiful, but so lonely and broken. He reminded her of a doll, one that had been loved, and then forgotten and tossed aside to rot.

"... worry Inoue, he'll be fine."

"...Huh?" Her eyes slowly recognized Uryuu, his hand healed and whole. Had she done that? She didn't even remember. She'd reformed his hand...

"I said; don't worry about Kurosaki-san. He's as strong as a mule and twice as stupid. He'll survive somehow."

"...I brought back your hand. From nowhere. I wonder... How extensive _are _my powers...?" She turned her head, looking at the platform where he had stood just moments ago. If she had fixed a hand...

"Inoue? Inoue, wait! Don't! What happens if he attacks us? Kurosaki's not here! Inoue!"

It didn't take long, not nearly as long as she thought. She could see him in her mind, every last detail. And then, suddenly, he was there, his full Hollow form kneeling in front of her. She crouched slowly, reaching her hand out. It seemed to take a second before he saw it. Then, very slowly, he raised his head to meet her eyes. His face _showed_ confusion, and his eyes held a hint of hope. He was like a small child, waiting to know he wasn't hated, that someone cared. His black hand reached out, his eyes questioning. Was he really okay to touch her, to be accepted, after what he had done? Regardless, he set his hand on hers.

All she could do was smile.

"Woman..."

"Wait, before you ask any questions, there's one other place I need to go. Can you take me there? After that, you can interrogate me until the sun comes up!" He had stopped, regarding her with a politely blank face. He didn't feel the need to remind her that the sun never came up in Hueco Mundo. It just meant he would get more answers, after all. _And hear her voice..._ He allowed a slight nod, ignoring the twinge in his chest when he pulled his hand from hers. When she smiled, that twinge only deepened. He wondered, for a second, if she had done something when she had revived him. Perhaps these emotions were due to the woman's reiatsu still lingering on his body... It was a conundrum he would deal with later. Right now, he had a task to do.

With no effort on his part, he slipped back into his former countenance.

"I will take you wherever you wish within the confines of Hueco Mundo. While Aizen-sama is away, I am to act as the master of Las Noches. You are still Aizen-sama's guest, and therefore must stay." He would ignore the fact that her eyes became unfocused at the mention of remaining in Hueco Mundo. Hell, he'd even ignore that look that she was giving him. Like a small animal being kicked, really. Looking so sad that he almost recalled his words. But... His duty was absolute. Without rules, what did he really have...? Certainly he couldn't depend on people, nor emotions. Those were things that could turn on you, break you from the inside. And so, his words remained resolute. Years of emptiness at least helped to quell the feeling in his chest. It almost felt like... Guilt.

Yes, he decided. That woman had definitely done something to him. Ah, only a matter of time, then, until all was normal once more... And curse the voice that remained in his head, laughing and taunting at this new weakness! While musing, he noted that the boy had been glaring at him. Probably wishing to defend the woman. Did they not understand that she hardly needed defending? She had had the gall to slap him, after all.

Uryuu had stiffened at the earlier remarks, glaring all the while. How _dare_ that beast? "Kurosaki-san is most likely fighting Aizen as we speak, and he will win. You might as well just give it up, Espada." The last word was said with as much malice as the young Quincy could muster.

Orihime subtly shook her head at Uryuu, silently pleading for a truce. For now, within Hueco Mundo was where she needed to be. When it came time to leave this place... Well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

"Well, where are we going, woman?"

* * *

He could swear his hair was red. Fucking red. Like that weak-ass Pineapple Shinigami. Add some yellow and he'd be a carrot-top like that piece-of-shit Kurosaki. He wheezed a chuckle, sadly amused by the fact that he was thinking about _hair_ on his death-bed. At least he'd lost enough blood that he couldn't feel the pain anymore. Fucking creepy bastard, that Nnoitora... Maybe, just **maybe** he hated that scumbag more than Kurosaki. _Maybe_. He looked at the hair again, vaguely glad that even in death he was defying Aizen's _Godly_ will. Fuck the man for liking this white-ass world. If he'd had his way, he'd have painted the whole damn place red with blood. Preferably the blood of his enemies, but he was a little short on that right now. For now, he made due with flinging his arm rather weakly and watching as his blood flecked the sand. It was a start.

He nearly stopped breathing when he heard approaching footsteps. So, someone was coming already? To hell with them if they thought they could just come along and eat him, the bitches. He'd personally make sure that there was enough of a fight to at least make 'em choke on the way down. _Bring it, bitch_.

"Grimmjow-san! You are still alive! I wasn't sure, with your reiatsu so low... Please, just stay still for a minute..."

He **had** stopped breathing at that voice. It was Ulquiorra's little pet. What the hell was she doing there? And, of course, like an obedient little dog, the Cuatro had trailed her heels. What a little prick.

All sensical thoughts flew out the window as he felt warmth envelop his chest. He was confused. No, actually, retract that statement. Confused was when you put your shirt on inside-out and spend a few minutes trying to remember _how the hell_ you pulled that one off. He was, he decided, flabbergasted. Hell, he didn't even know if that was a real word, which probably fit the situation even more. The. Woman. Was. Healing him. What the fuck. Hadn't he tied her up and forced her to watch a gory battle between him and dipshit Kurosaki? And hadn't he sent her little bed buddy Ulqui off to some other realm? What the hell kind of stupidity did this woman have? _'Oh, I know, dear creepy Emospada! Let's go heal that murderin' guy! Won't that be absolutely divine?' _To her great credit, he was feeling much better. His chest wound had closed up, and his mobility was nearly functional again. He was contemplating gutting her when she at last spoke up.

"I'm glad you're okay, Grimmjow-san... I was worried that you wouldn't make it..." Her eyes wouldn't meet his, which he fully expected. She was probably terrified of him anyways. Of course, as things would have it, she ended up terrifying _him_ when her face lit up like the bloody sun. He was almost one hundred percent sure that something was going to kill him now. Why else would she look so happy?

With smile still in place, she beamed up at him. "But I guess I forgot how strong you are! I shouldn't have worried!"

The process of getting up to run like hell in the other direction was halted by those words. Unbidden and unwelcome, the Deathberry's words circled in his head. '_I don't know whether you're a King or not... But crushing those that piss you off, and being King by yourself... Where's the enjoyment in that...?' _He could see himself, as he so often had before, sitting high upon a dais, King of all below him. He would be the top of the food chain, strongest and therefore superior. No longer would anyone look down on him, or scoff his strength. Only problem was... This time, with both the woman's and Kurosaki's words, he could see the full court. Yes, there he was at the top, still powerful, still untouchable. And that was it. Just him, alone in a world that needed no king. Could he really stand an eternity of being alone...? He closed his eyes, already knowing the answer. And besides, if he changed his mind later, he could still just kill everybody and see how far he _did _get with the eternity-alone problem.

"Tch... All right, woman. What're we doing?" He figured he would eventually regret helping the woman. And having the Cuatro there was no added bonus, either. But there really wasn't much else he **could** do. Killing them would be fun, yeah, but it was just another step closer to that stupid vision. Besides, the woman was friends with Kurosaki. He'd just wait until they ran into the bastard again, then kill him. He had said, after all, that he'd fight him all he wanted. His funeral.

"Huh? D-doing? You mean... you'll h-help us...?" The woman looked pretty confused, but he figured she got into that state often, given her intelligence level. Girl probably couldn't work her way out of a bag. He wondered if she had always been this stupid. How had Ulquiorra _not_ killed her?

"All right, I'll go slowly for you, okay? You... revived... me. I owe you. You wanna go save your shit-for-brains nakama, don't you? Well, come on. I can take on that ass Aizen on my own."

"**We **are Aizen's army. Therefore, it would be a redundant action to fight against him. Perhaps you have forgotten your duty, Jaegerjaques?" Shit. He'd forgotten about the loyal fuck. He'd better get one hell of a fight out of Kurosaki for having to put up with these two idiots.

"Listen, you stupid piece of shit. You can either come with us and fight that flying fuck Aizen, or you can have another fun-run off in negacion land. What's your poison, bitch?"

Orihime looked back and forth between the pair, not quite sure how to stop the pair from an imminent battle. She needed their help! And so, with a deep breath, she stormed between the two and pushed them as hard as she could away from each other.

"Either you help me or I'll... I'll reverse you right back to nothing! Only, because you'll be nothing you'll go right into the next life and become robots, and I'll build remote controls for you and make you listen anyways! So... So make your choice before I make it for you!" Her petite frame was shaking slightly from the effort of yelling so much, and her face was scrunched up in a mixture of anger and displeasure. The two Espada had rightfully surprised looks on their faces from the outburst. It was Ulquiorra who looked away first. Orihime, worried that he would use sonido for a quick get-away, jumped in front of him. Only to notice that a pale hand was placed over his mouth and his eyes were filled with suppressed laughter. It was the most _alive_ she had ever seen him. Behind him, Grimmjow had started laughing uproariously. Through the laughter, he managed a coherent sentence.

"Fine, little woman, we'll be good and listen. Just tell me what to do and I might even consider doing it!" The wild smirk had come back, pushing the laughter away for the moment. She noted that, although still scary-looking, his overall expression didn't hold the bloodlust that she had come to associate with him.

With a quiet clearing of his throat, Ulquiorra lifted his eyes to hers. "I do not believe even Aizen could have given such a convincing speech. I will follow you, if only to keep you out of trouble." All mirth was gone from his face, and he was mentally scolding himself for not using the appropriate honourifics following Aizen-sama's name. Again he wondered at the influence of her reiatsu on him. And he hoped beyond all wishes he had ever uttered that the effects would vanish. He could not allow himself such inane acts of humanity. It was foolishness.

Orihime again looked back and forth between the two men, not harbouring such overwhelming worry anymore. They weren't fighting, and they had agreed to help her. She didn't honestly believe that either had deserved to die, and she was hoping that this could be their second chance. Now, all they had to do was pull off this scheme and win the war. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Grimmjow rushed forward, maniacal grin firmly in place. To be in battle, with all the right sounds and all the right smells, was heavenly for him. Here, in this very place, he had access to some of the strongest beings alive. _Hell, yes_. Of course, setting his goals high -as he tended to do- he had immediately searched for Aizen. That bastard just had it coming. He had been about to go after the man, when that silly woman had stopped him. She had kindly pointed out the real bastard, and sent one of those stupid little fairies to guide him. He just agreed and pretended that he hadn't forgotten about Aizen's sword. And so, he followed the thing to, not Aizen over there, but some pulverized kid. Go figure that the bastard would imitate a dead guy. What a pussy.

So, again, he rushed forward. Hopefully he'd be able to get in a few good shots before the Shinigami noticed him apparently pummelling one of their dearly injured. Judging by the wall of ice, they were a bit more perceptive than he gave them credit for. Refraining from just jabbing a hole in the bastard, he turned to face his newest obstacle.

"Listen, you dumbass. You really think that the real Aizen's over there taking your shit? And you _really_ think I'm just following this trinket around for the good of my health? The god damned woman over there hasn't seen Suigetsu. She knows who the real Aizen is. So just shut the fuck up, and get out of my way."

Ulquiorra jumped down, landing not far from the agitated Sexta. "Yes, with crudeness aside, I agree. It would be best for you to work with us. A rebellion will go all the smoother if we don't wage wars within our own ranks. Besides, I would very much like not to kill you."

Toushirou stared in confusion between the two Espada, noting the trust on Inoue's face. Even the Quincy boy nodded in agreement.

"Very well. We are temporarily at a truce. However, any events proceeding the death of Aizen will be based upon your **past** as well as your contribution to this war. Oh, and remember." He raised Hyourinmaru slightly, "I can freeze you solid in a matter of seconds."

"Well said, little punk, well said."

* * *

Argh, it feels kind of rushed, neh? Either way, there is chapter two for you. Love it, hate it, burned your computer to get it out of your sight... Let me know, k? Also, sorry for any OOC that I slipped in here and there. Especially Grimmjow.

Anyway, hope you (even marginally) enjoyed this. If you're an awesome writer, and you've got tips for me... Well, just saying. Until next time, good day, eh!


	3. Memories in Red Rain

Hey, everyone! This chapter's pretty Gin-heavy, but I figure that's what most of you clicked on this story for. The next chapter probably won't be uploaded for a little bit, so you'll have to wait a bit, please!

Also, the biggest thanks I can muster to Aurora Marija, who literally made my day. Thank you again!

I don't own Bleach, so I'm afraid the character auction must be cancelled.

*SPOILERS!*

* * *

He gasped, feeling the blood spatter across his face. It had all suddenly become _far_ too real. He had known from the start what the war would entail, had known the amount of blood that would be spilled, and yet the scenes before him were doing far more harm to his mentality than he could ever have imagined. The Kurosaki kid was causing hell and doing way more damage than a 'normal' human should ever be given license to, and he could **feel** Grimmjow ripping the place apart. Swords were flashing, and blood was spraying virtually everywhere. He felt frozen to the spot, and could suddenly understand the inherent fear that had caused the Deathberry to be so still earlier. He whirled, feeling a sense of dread, and opened his pale blue eyes to meet those of his mentor and, though he would never admit it aloud, the man he saw as a father.

His body was washed with a sense of warmth, almost welcoming after the chilling noises behind him. Even better, the battle began to melt away, screams dulling as the world became almost ethereal. As his world blurred, the most prominent figure suddenly became Aizen, standing tall just before him. He wasn't fully aware of how the man had moved so close, but he felt almost relieved. All he could see was that man's smile, one that had comforted him day and night. It had given him a feeling of hope, invincibility. If Aizen was okay, then he would be too. But... The smile that faced him, one that he tried to draw comfort in, just seemed to be filled with malice.

"It's over for you, Gin. I've no use for you anymore." It was said so casually that Gin suddenly felt broken. How could the man who raised him be so calloused, emotionless? And how was it over? He was still able! A scream tore from his throat as a burning sensation replaced the pooling warmth in his stomach. Looking down, he saw Kyoka Suigetsu dripping with blood. His blood.

"But... why? I don'... understan'..." His hand, trembling, covered his stomach, and he slowly closed his eyes. Falling seemed to take forever, as if even gravity betrayed him that day. At least he didn't feel the impact.

* * *

He sighed, wondering just how quiet this guy thought he was. It was obvious that he was being followed. In point of fact, the guy had been tailing him ever since he'd pulled the food heist back in 79. At the moment, Gin was trying to find a way of just losing the guy. Killing him would bring way to much trouble to a little kid with a brimming bag of food, and it would be a pain besides. At the same time, there was no way he would let this guy tail him all the way back to Rangiku. She was still young, but it was sick what he'd seen happen to girls that age around this area. It was precisely the reason that he didn't allow her to leave the shack. He just couldn't take that risk. As he got closer to 'home', he sighed. There was really only one option now, anyway. The guy couldn't just up and leave, of course not. The answer was pretty apparent, and while he felt no remorse over what he had to do, he knew that there was a possibility that someone could trace it back to him and, thusly, to Rangiku.

Well, choices had to be made.

He gave the man no warning, simply dropping the sack and slashing his abdominal cavity wide open. There was only a slight change of expression as he noticed the man's garb. He hadn't really risked glancing back for fear of alerting the man, and so he had not been privy to the Shihakusho signifying a Soul Reaper until the man was already dead at his feet.

"That was quite impressive. What is your name, child?" His heart nearly stopped at the voice. Where the man had come from, he had absolutely no idea. Turning, keeping his soon-to-be trademark grin firmly in place to hide any fears, he faced his captor. The man, however, was not glaring at him like the other adults in the area were accustomed to do, and his clothing was so white it was almost blinding. _Nothing_ was white down there. His face had a friendly, paternal smile. And he truly **did **look impressed.

"Gin. Ichimaru Gin." And, grinning unfathomably and covered in a dead man's blood, Ichimaru Gin, unbeknownst to himself, sold his soul to the devil himself.

* * *

Gin was ridiculously and pointlessly nervous. After all, Rangiku was a friend. _Friend_. He had no reason to be afraid of seeing her, right? Even if she did probably hate him, or had forgotten about him, or had a perfectly good lover by now. Agitated, he shook his head, wondering just _how_ a girl he hadn't seen in seven years could affect him so immensely.

The day he had met Aizen, his life had changed. He had learned to read and write, something that was unheard of in the Rukongai. And with those skills, he was able to become a junior scribe, taking letters for loved ones. It was boring, tedious work, but safe, and with a steady income. He no longer worried about the possibility of losing a hand or getting gutted while at work, which made any job okay in his books.

And it wasn't like Aizen had stopped there. He'd taught him math, science, physics, history. Things only rich children learned through tutors. And, to be fair, Gin was a much better student than them. Determined to change, he devoured any knowledge given to him, absorbing information like a small, fox-shaped sponge. More than once, Aizen had mentioned the Soul Academy to him, suggesting that a boy of superior skills would advance quickly. To be sure, he was superior, but he still wasn't sure what to think of this man. Yes, he'd been nothing but kind, but that was the problem. Gin had grown into a life that left no room for error, and that relied on deception. He was worried that, should he put trust in this man, all would fall apart. And Ran-chan wouldn't be safe.

Naturally, she'd been curious about his sudden departure from a thief's life, and had questioned him relentlessly. In the end, he'd had no choice but to begin teaching her. It would be good, should he go away for a while. That way, he could send her proper letters, and she could even write back! Of course, the letters would have to be written with great care...

She was his biggest secret, Rangiku. Never had he mentioned her to Aizen. It was a vow he had made, to never endanger her. He still wasn't sure if the man could be trusted, and so he cut all ties with her when around Aizen. To keep her safe, he'd do just about anything.

That, in the end, was what caused him to join the Academy. Food had been scarce that year, and prices had gone up. He could barely afford supplies for the two of them, and both were losing weight. During those hard times, Aizen had taken him to the mess hall at the school. Just the sheer amount of food available to the Soul Reapers amazed him, let alone the rooms that each was given. In his mind, a plan had formed. If what Aizen said was true, and that he **was** advanced, it wouldn't be a problem to get in. After that, all he had to do was sneak Ran in, and they could live happily. It was a perfect plan.

The only flaw was Rangiku. When he passed the exam, and when he had waited to hear news of acceptance, he had not expected her name to be called as well. Apparently, head-strong and stubborn, she had not just been practicing her letters. While he'd worked, she'd trained until she nearly collapsed to reveal her sword. How she did it, he had no idea, and he guessed that that particular piece of the puzzle was long lost. All that mattered, he supposed, was that they were still in this together.

Even if it had been totally unexpected.

Unfortunately, it had been tough. Gin was an advanced student, where Rangiku fell just beyond average. With his longer, more strenuous classes, their time together rapidly decreased. And with Aizen still training him, that time soon became non-existent.

And so, the present. After seven years of absence, a 'date' had been arranged. And never had he felt like he did at that moment. Just learning where she was currently living had been a problem. He'd had to bribe quite a few individuals, and all under Aizen's nose. Even though he now trusted the man with all his being, his heart was saying otherwise. Even if he tried, he couldn't give his whole heart to his 'father', and he had realized it was because Rangiku held it in her unknowing hands. Even worse, he had discovered that she was oddly popular, which not only greatly hindered his private searching, but tightened like a vice around his chest. Go figure. Only his Ran could make something as simple as a 'date' together so very difficult.

After jumping through quite a few hoops, he had finally contacted her, though indirectly, requesting her to meet him during his free time. He had to stop and savour those words for just a moment. It was still rather new to him. He had just recently been promoted to Aizen's Vice-captain and right hand man, and the amount of free time he had was ridiculous compared to the last seven years. He'd been the first to ever rise so quickly through the ranks, and he was filled with pride at the thought of telling Ran.

Who was, incidentally, now one hour late.

The delay worried him more. Maybe she'd stood him up, just to _really_ emphasize how much she hated him. He sighed, fidgeting. He was wearing his crisp new lieutenant's robes, sitting at the best table of the most romantic restaurant he could find. It was silly, to choose a place like this for a friendly meeting, but he just felt it would be... right. With one more sigh, he wondered how long he had until they kicked him out for drinking all the water...

"Gin? Is that you?" The voice washed over him, smooth and relaxing. He stood, bravely turning to meet the woman who'd been plaguing his mind. He even tried to prepare some witty remark or another. On seeing her, though, he stopped. His eyes opened slowly to fully take her in. Her hair had become much more beautiful, taking on a life of its own, and her eyes seemed to stare into his soul. As for her body...

To say dinner went well would be a bold lie. Between being tongue-tied and trying to avoid getting jumped on by an overly-enthusiastic beautiful woman, Gin was falling all over himself. To redeem himself and work out some guilt, he walked her home. He did feel rather terrible, just letting his mind wander as it had been doing. It was about time he acted like a proper gentleman. So determined to do right, he hadn't even noticed the sidelong glances she was giving him. She had been, actually, all night. Funnily enough, she had forgotten that he would have changed. Gone was the lanky brat, and in his place stood a handsome young man. He had grown tall, which suited her just fine for she was a tall woman herself. Besides, the image of a Gin shorter than her slightly creeped her out.

With a touch of dismay, she noticed that they had arrived at her complex rather successfully. Both had been so lost in their own thoughts that it was a bit of a shock. She picked up on his constant fidgeting, and made a quick decision. She was tired of being obedient, waiting around for this man. With a fierceness that she almost didn't expect, she grabbed his face and pushed her lips to his. At first, he froze. Then, with growing fervor, returned her administrations.

Neither noticed the man watching from the shadows, glasses glinting and a smile filled with triumph. Weaknesses he could exploit, and now he had a glaring one against Gin.

* * *

He coughed, wondering why dying had to take so damn long. Even though he'd killed countless people, he hadn't thought a body could have so much blood. He felt like he'd been lying there for hours. In reality, it had probably only been about fifteen minutes. Go figure. Vaguely he noted the Quincy's rietsu snuff out. Dead, maybe? If not, grievously injured. Ulquiorra and Grimmjow were still up there fighting, and he remained awed that the Shinigami had accepted them so quickly. Not even twenty-four hours ago and both of them had been trying to kill Kurosaki. Now, they were up there watching each others' backs.

Aizen, most unfortunately, was still kicking. He had really come to hate that man, what with the stabbing and all. It seemed as though the Shinigami might even be winning, at least. Tousen had long ago been done in by Aizen, and he supposed that should have been a warning sign. If he got rid of one lackey, he'd probably do in the other...

Suddenly a familiar rietsu washed over him, one that brought a smile to his cracked lips. Rangiku was nearby.

Opening his eyes, that smile slid away. Indeed, she was right there, but everything was all wrong. Her beautiful hair was matted and singed, dyed red, and her shihakusho was shredded and bloody. At least her fierce beauty remained, even while beaten and weak. He could see the strength in her eyes, glaring out at anyone who got in the way. She looked magnificent. Time slowed as he saw an Arrancar take advantage of her lowered guard, jumping forward to attack. In her weakened state, Rangiku couldn't possibly defend herself. Haineko had even reformed.

For the second time that day, Gin found himself rather surprised. That ridiculous warmth was spreading, but this time in his chest. He grabbed the steel protruding from his body with one hand, and with the other impaled the bastard. Choking quietly, he turned his head to look back at the only woman he had ever loved.

"Hi... Ran..." With a final smile for her, he found himself falling for the last time.

* * *

Rangiku stood in a stupor, as that idiot of a man jumped in front of her. His blood even hit her as he selflessly let himself die. Tears that had been prickling her eyes now poured freely down her face, falling with him. An unbridled rage boiled through her. All of this was Aizen's fault, every little thing, and he would pay.

With a scream, she rushed toward Ichigo, knowing that Aizen would be there, the scum. Ichigo seemed to be fighting Gin himself, but she knew that was a lie. Gin was gone, and this man was desecrating his name by assuming that form. With no words, no formalities, she thrust her sword hilt-deep into the man's gut. He must have thought her incapable of attacking her lover's form, because her sword entered his body unhindered, with no attempt for defense.

As she ripped her sword free, illusions melted away. Everyone became aware of the real Aizen, and all turned toward him with sheer hate.

"Now, Inoue! Reject it!"

The orange-haired girl appeared out of nowhere, anger set on her dainty face. The hogyoku, now revealed through the torn fabric of his robes, was surrounded by a golden shield. Ichigo, knowing that the man would run, jumped behind him and held on as tightly as he could.

"Don't worry about me, just get rid of it! Do it!"

There was barely a hesitation on her part. She was unsure as to how the hogyoku would react, and she was hoping that Ichigo wouldn't be hurt. Resolved, she nodded.

"Soten Kishun, I Reject!"

Things became a mite stickier after that.

The hogyoku, comprised of pure spiritual power, divided and reformed into what could only be called an army of Hollows. Fake Karakura was crawling with high level beasts, all blood-thirsty and every one strong. The only relief was the lack of Arrancar-level hollows, discounting the ones that Aizen had created beforehand.

The pressure on the Soul Society increased yet again, as the sheer blast from disassembling the hogyoku had brought many to their knees. Both Hollow and Shinigami had been weakened by such an immense explosion. Orihime herself had been badly injured, and had been knocked out of commission. Rangiku had been rather surprised that she hadn't seen the dark-haired Espada destroying everything. He had been attached to Orihime that whole fight, and had suddenly disappeared. Her captain himself had dealt the final blow to Aizen, and most suitably too. Because of that man, Toushirou had had to stab his best friend. Her condition was still unknown.

With a good contribution from the other Espada, Grimmjow, the Hollow numbers had steadily decreased. Kurosaki, even after being in the midst of that explosion, was still going strong. He had been feeding off of pure rage, and the sight was terrifying. She wasn't sure how he had held on for so long, but she had been grateful. So many had been injured or killed, it was a relief to have those fighting, trying to end it all the sooner. Each death had been like a slap to the face to her, but none so more that Gin's. With little thought to her own health, she had jumped into the fray with abandon

It was only a few Hollows, after all.

* * *

Kisuke sighed, holding his head in his hands. So many people were gone, and it was all his fault. Kurosaki, Inoue, Ishida, Sado... All were in the Soul Society now. They would never finish their human lives. He felt the duty to tell their loved ones, but he had yet to do it. He couldn't handle the hate he knew would be there, even if he did deserve it. The Espada, much to the relief of everyone, had both died. They'd no idea what to do with the 'beasts', and death solved that problem up nicely. Hollows must be killed, after all, even if they did help save the world. Ichimaru had been found after all was said in done as well. His clothing, once white and gleaming, had turned a tarnished red-brown from the old blood pooling about him. Both stab wounds had wreaked havoc on his organs, but death had been slow and painful. A stomach wound would have poisoned his system, while the chest wound had missed his heart and pierced a lung. The man had died choking on his own blood. He had probably even been alive when Aizen was killed.

As he looked around at the myriad of bodies, he was overcome with self-loathing. With such an abysmal feeling in his chest, it was no wonder that he didn't feel Yoruichi's approach.

"Kisuke, come. You can't just sit here and stare at the battlefield all day... And you can't blame yourself for this. The man to be blamed is already dead. And if you keep sulking, I'm going to personally put you in the same place!" Her golden eyes narrowed. There wasn't a reason for him to be this quiet! Kisuke was supposed to be cheerful and obnoxious, laughing away everyone's worries. He wasn't supposed to look like _that..._

"This is _my_ fault, Yoruichi. Because I couldn't destroy the hogyoku, so many people have died... I don't know what to do..." His voice had broken on the last few words. He lowered his head, shoulders shaking. Small sobs punctuated the deathly quiet all around them. Yoruichi felt her own throat tighten, and quickly swallowed to dispel the feeling.

"Kisuke, please... It's not your fault... You couldn't have known that any of this would happen. Besides, there were some good things to come out of this. The war brought us together. Humans fought alongside Hollow and Shinigami. Outcasts like the Ryouka boy and his friends worked together, and we came out victorious. _We worked together_. All of us." She placed her hand gently on his bare head. At her words, she saw him slowly raise his head. The tears were still slowly coursing down his face, but he had stopped sobbing and his expression had taken on a more hopeful look.

"Yoruichi... I have an idea. They did help us, and they gave their lives for a cause that barely involved them. They deserve a second chance, wouldn't you say?"

"This is going to be highly illegal, isn't it?"

"You betcha. How well you know me, my dear friend." He slowly placed his hat upon his head, shading his eyes once more from view. A smile was working its way across his face as he thought of this new idea. He owed them **all** that much.

* * *

Oh dear, plot chapters can be such a bore. We're almost up to the summary, so hope you're looking forward to it!


	4. Battle the Peace

Hello again! Sorry for such a delay, but I haven't been home for a while. Regardless, here's the next chapter, and I may have number five up tonight! Then you'll have to wait...

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Bleach, and I never will. I can just hope to portray them to a reasonable degree...

Oh, there are spoilers to older chapters here. If you just read the books or watch the anime, know that you've been warned. If you read the online stuff, you're good to go.

* * *

Ichigo frowned, again adjusting the sleeve of his shihakusho. He had been kneeling on the ground for quite a while, and it was getting pretty uncomfortable. Uryuu shifted beside him, mirroring his discomfort and clearly agitated. He knew that the young Quincy was the most upset out of them all, now that the war had been fought. After all, becoming a Shinigami was probably the most insulting thing that could have happened to him. After they had all died - it was still so strange to think of it like that - they had been fully incorporated into the Gotei with little hesitation. It'd been pretty expected, he supposed, what with all the help they gave during the war. Because of them, Aizen hadn't succeeded. Well, partially because of them. Ichimaru was a great contributor, and he was truly upset that the man had died. He'd really not done too much against the Soul Society. Well, yeah, he'd run off and all, but most of the war had consisted of him standing around grinning like a maniac. And the way he'd gone out...

Added to the list of casualties, there was also Grimmjow... The Espada's body had been found surrounded by a countless amount of shredded Hollows, and Grimmjow himself had nearly been in pieces. Ichigo had been pretty insistent that both he and Ulquiorra be given proper farewells. Even though he knew the truth about spirits, he liked to believe in peace after death. At first, he'd been met with rebuttal, but he supposed the influence of his new position had helped push the notion.

After that hellish war had ended, it became pretty apparent that the Soul Society was a lot weaker than it had ever been. With so many captains dead or severely injured, they had quite a few places to fill. Unohana, level-headed and downright scary when the need arose, had become Captain-General in lieu of the deceased Yamamoto. His death had been well-mourned, and people still stopped in respect when passing the memorial grounds. After a brief captain's meeting, it had unanimously been decided that the once-hated Ryouka be integrated into the ranks. Ichigo now found himself sporting a white robe with the number five emblazoned on the back. Chad sat to his left, quietly proud and wearing a lieutenant's band. Ichigo had refused any other vice-captain, and seeing as how Momo was too unstable to remain, he'd gotten his wish. He just couldn't see how anyone else could sit beside him. They still had a promise to keep, after all.

Orihime was seated to his right, picking weakly at her own white sleeve and wearing a drawn, harried look. Ichigo was pretty sure he knew what was wrong. Most people had assigned her strange behaviour with all that had happened so recently. She'd been kidnapped, taken to the enemy's stronghold, had who-knows-what done to her, and then been witness to and a part of a monstrous war. Yeah, she did have every reason to be depressed. But... The problem was, Orihime had the ability to adapt to these kinds of situations. Even after he'd almost died (countless times) she'd just smiled, brushed it off, and gone back to her bizarre food combinations. It was ritualistic by now. But only once, and a long time ago, had he ever heard of her completely shutting down. It had been when Sora had died.

No, she wasn't crushed from the events that had happened to her. In true Orihime style, she was dying because of what had happened to someone else. Right in front of her, and not once but twice, the guy she _needed _to protect, if only out of a warped sense of justice, had been brutally killed. He was actually willing to believe that she had felt something for him, and he was more than sure that Ulquiorra had returned some emotion. He had, after all, been witness to his last moments, and he was convinced that anyone who could look at each other like that, Hollow or no, had to feel something. He just wasn't sure if either had recognized it.

The young man closed his eyes. In truth, he hated sad stories. So many of those ending could be avoided, and easily too... They just left such a sour taste in his mouth...

Luckily, though, not everything had changed. Kenpachi was, somehow, still alive. And disturbingly crazy. The man had been surrounded by nearly as many Hollows as Grimmjow, and he'd been in almost as many pieces. Orihime had been the only one with the potential to heal him, and she herself had had trouble. At that point, though, she'd already travelled most of the battlefield, and had been ridiculously low on reiatsu.

He was sure that the image of Orihime approaching the injured party would be remembered forever. Hell, he was pretty sure he saw a rendition of it in the Seireitei news. She'd walked toward them, still glowing faintly from the burst of power used to disassemble the Hogyoku. The Shunshunrikka had been whirling around her, making her reminiscent to a sun with its planets in orbit. While her presence alone had been rather awe-inspiring, it was her expression that Ichigo remembered the most. Tears had stained her usually jovial face and her eyes had been disturbingly empty. She'd stared straight ahead, not even flinching when she tripped over a Hollow's body. She'd just caught herself, stumbled a few times, then continued toward them. The sight had wrenched something in his gut.

He'd had a brief prayer that it was just fatigue that made her so lifeless, but he couldn't even try to convince himself of that. He knew that she'd nearly exhausted herself, and that she was over-exerting her body. He also knew that she didn't really care. When Orihime had first rejected the Hogyoku, she'd gotten no further than calling upon her sprites before she had been stabbed. He thanked every god he knew that Aizen had been too distracted with the golden shield to deliver a killing strike, but it didn't change the fact that she'd been badly wounded. He remembered her falling, kind of remembered her being caught by Unohana's freaky sword. After that, things got a little blurry. He figured it was due to the thick, nearly physical reiatsu that was pouring from an enraged Ulquiorra. The Espada used no formalities; just viciously leapt forward and tried to kill Aizen. At first, things weren't looking too bad. Aizen had been surprised by Ulquiorra's form, a fact that was used against him. It didn't take too long for the power struggle to end. With some whispered words for Ulquiorra alone, Aizen ran him through. Orihime, still bleeding and weak, now had a choice to make. With Suigetsu firmly lodged in Ulquiorra's chest, Aizen was distracted. She had a clear shot at the Hogyoku. However, if she did that, Ulquiorra would most certainly die, and she wouldn't have enough reiatsu to bring him back. So, out of duty and the good of everyone but herself, she had picked the former option.

He almost wished she had picked Ulquiorra. He was sure another opportunity would have been made to destroy the Hogyoku, and if not, he'd have made one. The thing was, she wasn't the same anymore. He, as well as everyone else, sorely missed her. He would have given anything to have to old Orihime back...

Many had been against incorporating Orihime into the Gotei. She'd been, in their eyes, a traitor and mentally unstable besides. For a while, he was planning how to break her loose and make a grand exit like he had with Rukia. Unohana, possibly sensing impending destruction from a certain orange-haired youth, had stepped in. With a chillingly pleasant voice, she had asked the court if they knew any other people who would fit the quota of Fourth Captain, especially when it was considered that Orihime could reverse wounds. And so, in the end, with most people still shuddering in fear, Orihime had been given captaincy. Ichigo just worried that it was still too soon.

As for the reason of the current meeting, all captains and lieutenants had been gathered to decide the fate of war survivors. Only a sparse few had survived, and out of those only a couple had decided not to fight back. The most threatening was, by far, Tricera Espada Hallibel Tia. Without batting an eye, she'd revealed her tattoo and asked for a chance to appeal to the Gotei. Stating that she had no further affiliations with 'a dead, foolish man', she'd asked to be allowed to live in peace in Hueco Mundo. That request, due to the obstinacy of Soul Reapers, had most definitely not gone over. It was again Orihime who had surprised them all, saying that she fully planned to take in the Espada until an ultimatum had been reached. She offered to take care of her, and keep an eye on her. Such a bold statement caused some people to begin questioning her motives, but Unohana's acceptance of the idea quelled some of the voices.

For Ichigo, it wasn't the fact that she'd decided to take on an Espada that disturbed him. In fact, he'd been kind of waiting for it. No, the scary part had been the coldness in her voice, ironically similar to Ulquiorra. Again, Ichigo had found himself wishing beyond belief that the old Orihime would come back. He was afraid that if she didn't soon, he'd lose her forever.

* * *

Toushirou rubbed his head, glad to be out of that stifling room. Meetings in general were unwelcome, but any that extended past the one-hour mark were simply unholy. He was glad Rangiku had been unable to make it. The meeting had been so long and boring, he knew she would have started acting up and playing pranks. Perhaps she'd have whispered rude remarks about others in the room, or imitated voices while no one was watching. She was quite good at it, too. He really did have no idea where she got such a flaw in her personality. Shaking his head, he started back towards Tenth. It was a hell of a walk, and using Shunpo would be a great deal more efficient, but he needed time to think.

Even though the war was over, things were most definitely not just going to patch themselves up immediately. All captain and vice-captain roles had been filled, once again upholding the security of the Seireitei, but it didn't excuse the fact that, including the traitors, six high-level Shinigami had been either killed or decommissioned, not to mention the countless seated and unseated casualties. Ukitake was showing little sign of recovery, and Unohana feared he wouldn't last another week. The war had placed far too great a strain on his body, she claimed.

As for Momo... He was just glad she was alive. Even if she would hate him for the rest of their lives.

He walked briskly through Tenth's hallways, noting the definitive lack of destruction and garbage. Well then, Rangiku must not be awake yet. He had initially been worried about her, knowing the she and Ichimaru had been rather close. He couldn't understand what she saw in him, really. He was a snake, simple as that. However, he had forfeited his life for her, and that earned him a basic respect. Strangely, though, after all was said and done, she'd been fine. She still teased him about his height, and she still drank with her friends. She seemed perfectly normal.

He froze on entering his office, suddenly disturbed beyond any possible belief. Nowhere was there a sake bottle, or a shred of garbage, or an empty food container anywhere within the confines of the room. Normally, this just pointed again to Rangiku still sleeping, and was not completely uncommon. No, the most disturbing element was the buxom blonde sitting at her desk, bent over paperwork.

Something, he decided, was very, very wrong.

* * *

Rangiku studied the quaint little village, frown etched firmly on her face. Her captain had become a lot more protective lately, barely even letting her go on little kiddie missions. He seemed to be worried about her. They all were. It was smothering her! They were all brooding like mother hens. Didn't they understand that she didn't need them?

Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. The emotions and the screaming voice in her head immediately quieted. It had become so easy to suppress the raw feelings. She didn't really need them, after all. Besides, who had time for emotions anymore? It was just Hollow, Hollow, Hollow, day in and day out.

Speaking of, she could sense one below her. She was glad, really, that it had finally showed up. She had to be at another location soon, and this one was a long time coming. Who cares if the Captain thought she was overworking herself. She'd deal.

Barely giving it time to move, she jumped down in front of it. Haineko, as eager as she, ripped into flesh and bone. Ripping the mask off took little to no time, and a screaming human face was revealed. It was mere seconds later that Haineko finished the job. Turning her back on the corpse, Rangiku sprinted away. She had a full schedule, and many more Hollows to kill. Every face she had revealed was etched firmly in her mind, and she waited for the day that she would match one of those faces with her hated silver fox and cut him down. Even if it killed her too.

* * *

It had been so long, so long since they died, and he was fretting that this was his last chance. If it went wrong... He'd never be able to lift the guilt from his chest.

Half the work had already been done. Now, it was time to complete the puzzle. As the Hogyoku willed, things would change.

He just had to fulfill his end of the bargain.

* * *

Orihime looked out the window, wondering if it was Isane keeping the gardens so beautiful. She smiled, thinking it was more probable to be Chad. He had such love for anything beautiful or cute, after all.

She could hear muffled movements, and figured that one of her lieutenants must be up. No telling which it was, as both women generally slept late. Really, it could have been either one.

The door opened to reveal the darker-skinned woman. A glimpse behind her showed that the shared bedroom was in need of a good cleaning. Isane was apparently still in bed.

"Did you sleep well, Tia?" She smiled at her, cocking her head slightly to the side. Hallibel couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude for the petite woman in front of her. She had thought she was going to die that day, when she had boldly stood in front of the Gotei Thirteen. Instead, some pale, thin, feeble-looking girl had stepped in and offered her salvation. The girl truly was a goddess. She really did owe her her life, and endless gratitude as well. Perhaps that was the reason that she hated seeing her so obviously upset. It was no secret to friends of Inoue that the war had indefinitely changed her.

"I did. I hope you did as well?" What a pointless question. The circles around her eyes were pronounced, and her face lacked the glow that had once been a constant. Besides, Hallibel had heard her crying at some point through the night.

Orihime was falling apart, and she had no idea what to do. It truly frustrated her.

She supposed that such vivid emotions should have been welcome, especially given what she had been. Her Hollow form had been discarded, again with thanks to the goddess in front of her, and these emotions were still strange and refreshing. At the moment, though, she would have given anything to just put them on hold. She had by no means been emotionless as Tricera, but it had been so much easier to control then. Now, there was a constant struggle whenever a thought entered her head. When men leered at her, she felt ashamed, or even embarrassed. Sorrow affected her much more now, and she noted that other peoples' emotions were shared. When people laughed, so did she.

At the moment, Orihime's sadness was seeping into her very bones. She sighed, shaking her head slightly. Orihime still had not answered her question. It must have been a very bad night indeed.

She went over, suddenly wrapping her arms around the young girl and pulling her close. Hallibel saw the woman as a sister, and acted accordingly. If she needed comfort, then she would get it. And when she needed to cry, then it would be Hallibel's shoulder she would cry on. She could feel her shaking, and then hear the sobs ripping from her chest.

"I miss him so much... I know it's wrong, and stupid. But he didn't deserve that... He was just trying to protect me. Tia... I feel so empty..."

Hallibel just closed her eyes, squeezing tighter. A broken heart seemed to be the most painful experience a human could go through, and Orihime's had been shattered.

It would be a long recovery.

* * *

All right, so the next chapter's already written, just need to type it out... I may not be able to get to a computer for a bit, so to those who like this story, please be patient!

Also, it must be said that I owe Aurora Marija my soul for her beautiful comments. You've really helped me out, so I hope that this story works for you! Big thanks to Nioki-chan, I'm Made of Wax Larry, Chinesemidget, Cy-grl, and capslocknanao, who've all given great reviews for that last chapter. Thank you so much, guys!

Oh, and as a warning, the next chapter merges with the AU aspect of the summary. See you soon!


	5. Secrets of the Phoenix

Okay, good long-ish chapter. Sorry to keep everyone waiting! To be honest, I delayed a bit because I'm a little worried as to how this chapter's gonna fly. As (repeatedly) previously stated, it's AU here. And, in my experience, AU is always more iffy...

Either way, big thanks again to **capslock-nanao** for her awesome review, and also a huge thanks to **Angela**, who gave me my first criticism! High five, regardless of grammatical errors! Although, I am sorry to say that I'm an Orihime fan, and she WILL be reappearing. Not sure how much, though... Anyways, thanks again to everyone who's ever reviewed! If you review, I promise to answer any questions or what not in these here author's notes! Now, on with the show!

You know what, screw the repeated disclaimers. This one will settle the rest of the chapters. I'll do it in caps, just to relay how much it has to cover.

**I DO NOT OWN BLEACH!** If I did, chapters 400+ would be very, very different.

* * *

Glancing quickly left and right, Urahara Kisuke indeed noted that he was alone. Perfect.

Now, to get the job done... Silently, his hand reached out and grasped the doorknob, a light sheen of sweat coating his body. He had to be bold, be courageous. Swallowing loudly, he whipped the door open and neatly back-pedaled, clapping his hands over his ears. The noise was _horrendous_. But now was not the time. He had to continue, and quickly. It would not do to get caught.

Gritting his teeth, he moved into the large room, where wailing and screaming filled his poor head. He really shouldn't have had those drinks with Yoruichi the previous night... Sake and babies apparently didn't mix well. He looked about, surveying the multiple bassinets. Gods, what he would give to just _leave_... But alas, he had two little brats to find first. Better sooner rather than later...

Walking up and down the rows, he peeked into each crib. They were ridiculously loud, these little infants. Never, he decided, would he entertain the thought of actually possessing one. And if, by some twisted miracle, that day ever arrived, he'd just push the little brat off on someone. Maybe senior Kurosaki... The man would probably welcome new children, providing they were girls. He already had _one_ idiot son, so he probably wouldn't need another.

Muses still working, he finally found the two he was looking for. Both were flailing about, looking completely useless and silly. He smiled - just a bit - at seeing a mini version of the man most people had been terrified to look at, let alone go near. He was actually kind of cute like this... And seeing a little blue-haired demon child next to him was just icing on the cake. Almost made him disregard the splitting migraine. Either way, it was off to work he went. He still had another trip to prepare for, even if it was two years away. Better safe than sorry.

After one more safety glance, he pulled out a small plastic container. Any resemblance it had to a Tic-tac box was probably completely coincidental. Flipping open the lid, he deftly shook out two tiny little oval pills and crushed each one. Reaching down, he brusquely took the pacifiers from the kids' mouths and coated them in the mystery powder. At having their mouths free, they started screaming to a whole new level. Quickly, and all the while filling with panic, he shoved the rubber plugs back in their mouths, eternally glad when they shut up immediately. He would really have to start developing similar devices for Shinigami who wouldn't shut up. Silly as they may have looked, peace and quiet made it very much so worth it.

Turning away, he was grateful that the job was done. And without getting caught and sent to jail! It had been quite a successful day, in his humble opinion. As he shut the door behind him, he couldn't help but feel amused by the way things had fallen into place. He wondered how much the two would hate him when they realized, after all was said and done, that they were born brothers - and twins at that.

Oh, they'd probably rip him limb from limb.

* * *

-8 Years Later-

"Fight, fight, fight!" The chanting was booming, drowning out the actual sounds of flesh hitting flesh. The blue-haired youth was grinning, split lip emphasizing his flashing teeth. With a laugh far too cocky to be uttered by someone his age, he jumped head-first at the boy, fist drawn back for a brutal punch. Children pushed closer, showing a disturbing interest in the bloody fight. Feeling his closed hand connect with the shoulder of the other, he couldn't help but feel a rush of delight. Served the jerk right for calling him a freak!

"Stop, ya stupid idiot!" An arm wrapped around his neck, pulling hard enough to throw his balance and knock him off his feet. He thrashed, all but snarling, as he attacked his new assailant. Feeling his head whip to the side after a particularly well-placed punch, he stopped yelling and looked down.

"Oh... Sorry, Gin."

The young boy looked up at him, ice-blue eyes open and showing clear contempt. The crowd around them had drawn back at the new arrival, taking with them the injured boy Grimmjow had clearly beaten senseless. They were now staring, from a distance, at the two residential 'freaks'. Gin could feel their eyes boring into him, and he resolved to get his idiot brother out of there before they were ratted out. Getting to his feet, he sent a glare over to the bystanders that was strong enough to stop an elephant. He was hoping that they'd keep their mouths shut out of fear. With a grimace, he grabbed Grimmjow and yanked him out of the room. It wasn't very likely that they'd have peace for long.

"Jeez... Ya hafta hit so hard?" Matching the intensity of Gin's glare, he wiped the blood gingerly from his jaw.

"Now maybe if ya weren't so stupid, I wouldn't have had to hit ya at all." They filed into their bedroom, really just a closet with two small beds crammed inside. They didn't even have a dresser. Not that it really mattered, as they didn't really have clothes to put in said dresser. But still. Through the thin walls, they could hear other boys yelling. Another fight had probably broken out. It could be rather painful, sometimes, to live in an orphanage like that one. There was a defined, invisible set of rules concerning survival, and if you didn't know every trick in the book, you'd be on the street before you could blink. For example, one had to fight to gain respect, privacy, food even. And yet, to get caught was the equivalent of death. He'd heard of kids getting beaten so badly, they just given up and withered away... Nope, this place wouldn't be earning any awards for child satisfaction anytime soon.

Of course, life was made more interesting with a fool of a brother like his own. Grimmjow understood the 'fight to survive' thing, but his 'don't get caught' part of the equation was rather lacking. Not only would he brag, but he also neglected to _clear the evidence_. It was lucky Gin cared enough to help him out, or he'd have been a goner long ago. Trudging over to his 'half' the room, he reached under his bed and pulled out the looted med box. The nurses hadn't missed this one, and for that he was grateful. Bringing Grimmjow to the nurse's office was bound to lead to questions, especially if they went as often as the fool hurt himself. He shook his head again, slightly disgusted. Grimmjow had such a penchant for destruction.

"Here, clean yerself up. An' hurry, before someone sees ya and tries to nail you for fighting. Again. 'Cause I'm not sharin' food with ya if they do."

"Akira, Takao, it's dinner time!" Both boys visibly flinched at the names. The woman didn't even bother to open the door to speak with them directly, and then had the nerve to use those wretched names!

The boys had been living there since they were old enough to get kicked out of the hospital. They knew nothing of their parents, and honestly gave them little thought. Those who forgot them were destined to be forgotten. They'd been given hopelessly plain names on the day they left, for the sake of having proper papers. However, from the first year that they learned to talk, they had insisted on the names Gin and Grimmjow. They had no idea where the names came from (though Gin's was rather self-explanatory), but they stuck with them. The people running this accursed hell house, however, couldn't seem to digest that reasoning. In retaliation, they just simply ignored them when the false names were called. As they were now. The shades of red on their faces even made it worth it. Ignorance was indeed bliss.

Gin gave his brother a quick once-over, making sure that all blood was gone. It would only be a moment before their favourite keeper came in and reamed them out. Had to be presentable for the missus. And they certainly didn't want any evidence of a fight on them.

Within a moment, the door was this time slammed open, revealing an irate, heavy-set woman. If looks could kill, they may well have been pushing up daisies.

"If you boys don't get a move on, there'll be nothing left. So move!" Ah, ever the charmer. And look how red she was! Today might be a good day after all.

The boys started to the door, Grimmjow deliberately scoffing as they walked by her. Gin, grinning boldly, stopped directly in front of her and peered up. "Will do, ma'am. Oh, and by the way, it's Gin." Both boys darted as an angry howl emitted from their room. At least they knew they could outrun her.

* * *

The lights were out, and silence permeated throughout the building. Grimmjow lay flat on his back, a troubled look on his face. His dreams were becoming stranger and stranger by the day, and he felt this gnawing sensation that he should understand them. It was frustrating, like having a word on the tip of your tongue but not remembering what it was. He could hear Gin's breathing pick up, and could now hear him tossing and turning. He knew that Gin's dreams were worse, more confusing than his own. That had been established the one time they had mentioned them. After that, it became a taboo subject that neither dared breach. As they visions intensified, they lost the desire to talk about them. Just revisiting those images while awake would make them far too real.

With a gasp, the silver-haired boy shot up, breathing raggedly. It would only be a moment until he mastered himself and returned to his normal, guarded self. He had become quite adept at hiding his feelings.

"Let's get out o' here, jus' you an' me. Leave all this behind. The people, the nightmares. Everythin'."

Gin looked over at his brother, more than a little surprised. Never, in their eight years there, had they ever talked about leaving. They had nowhere to go, so it would be pointless anyway. However, the thought of just leaving everything behind was tantalizing. No duties, no rules, no food... Ah, yes, what would they eat? And sleeping, where would that happen? They were just two young boys, rather defenseless at that. Leaving on their own was far-fetched.

Of course, there was always the possibility of getting adopted. Because that would obviously happen. Neither one had really so much as been looked at, Grimmjow with his temper and Gin with his scathing remarks. Pair that with the fact that they refused to be separated, and their chances became nil.

"Just wait a week, hey? We've got nothin', an' I don't wanna jump straight into a screwed up life. Feel free ta go if ya wan', though. I ain't stopping ya." He waved one hand rather dismissively at his brother, turning on his side and away from searching eyes. A grumbling was the only response to his gesture, and there were no further remarks. This meant that, for at least one more night, there would be no questions about the nightmares that plagued him.

* * *

"Sweetie, could you grab the milk please?" Looking up, the young boy hopped off his chair, giving his mother a brisk nod. Dragging over a stool kept there for just that reason, he opened the fridge and climbed up. He was rather tiny, barely tall enough to climb onto chairs, and yet he had the uncanny ability to stand out no matter the crowd. With unruly black hair and vibrant, emerald green eyes, he definitely got double-takes. Pair that with his mother, a rather famous and absolutely gorgeous model, and they almost always had a crowd.

"Here you go, mom." With a small smile, he accepted the hair ruffle she gave him in thanks. Still smiling faintly, his mother got to work at adding and mixing the dairy into a large bowl. Watching, he felt a strange tug in his chest. The two were quite inseparable, but there were times when he felt awkward and unfamiliar around her. They never lasted, but it was more than enough to worry him. How he could ever feel strange around her, he couldn't fathom.

"I had another weird dream again last night..." He didn't look up, and felt the silence settle around him. She had stopped whisking, and just looked at her young son with a quieted look. He knew that his dreams worried her, maybe even scared her, but he wasn't sure he could live with the burden of them alone. He knew by now that normal kids his age didn't dream of war, or death and spirits, and that she may regret having him for a son because of it, but he needed to tell her. It was all too overwhelming.

"There was the orange-haired kid again, and he had a scary mask on. He was mad about something, but I don't know what. I just remember that everything hurt... I hate this, mom... It's getting worse..." He hung his head, small body trembling. He felt ashamed of himself, for both worrying her and crying like a baby. He was the man of the house, yet there he was, blubbering away! His mother studied him for a moment more, before putting down the bowl and circling the island to reach her son. Standing beside him, she gently pulled his head into her chest and held him.

"Tell you what. We'll get these cupcakes baking, then we'll go sit in the living room and eat as many as we can until we explode. Okay? And you can tell me everything. It'll be okay, sweetie." She looked down at his distraught eyes, kissing him soundly on the forehead. She had known for quite a while that he was different. After all, how many children corrected their parents on how they should be addressed? As he had learned to speak, he had suddenly started repeating the name 'Ulquiorra' over and over again. Thinking that he'd heard it on TV, she'd gone along with it, figuring that he'd grow out of it eventually. Strangely, as he became more literate, his resolve strengthened until he had asked to get it legally changed. Confused, she had agreed with it. He seemed to know what was best for himself, and a rose by any other name, right? It wasn't long after that that he had approached her about the nightmares.

He'd told her that a being called 'Murcielago' appeared almost every night. It had taken her a week and a half to figure out that the word was Spanish, and she still wondered where he'd picked it up. True, she took him travelling quite often, but when in the world had she had a casual conversation in Spanish about bats?

After that, things got a touch more dicey. He started telling her about fighting, and about using a sword, and of a world filled with nothing but everlasting whiteness. And lately, the nightmares had been getting worse. He would tentatively relay epic battles and mass bloodshed. It was hard to believe that it could get more horrible still...

She had also noticed the far-away look he sometimes got. He would stare, occasionally for hours, at nothing. If she tried to get his attention, he'd stare at her for a moment as if he had no recollection as to who she was. She worried constantly. With no father to speak of, she couldn't help but wonder if the lack of a positive male role-model was causing the strange behaviour. She would have preferred to have a man in the house, but it was near impossible with a child as unpredictable as he. He'd glared holes through a teacher just because the man had asked her to a friendly social outing!

Lifting him off the chair, she slung him over her shoulder and ran for the living room couch. With a rather magnificent leap over the coffee table, she managed to land the both of them squarely on the center cushion. Both laughing, they collapsed into a jumbled heap. Right now, the boy needed to laugh as much as possible.

"All right. Cupcakes will be done soon, so now for your end of the bargain. Spill, kid." His laughter slowed, and his body language turned from easy-going to shy almost immediately.

"Mom... I just... I don't know. It's getting weirder now..." He had definitely become more pensive, and his pale skin showed a red stain across his cheeks. She rubbed his back, wondering if he knew that this shy stage was more worrisome than the war-blood-guts stage.

"It's just that... There's a girl now..." Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Admittedly, she hadn't expected that. Young boys did indeed dream of war and fighting (well, maybe not to his degree, but still), but wasn't he a little young to have girls on the brain? Suddenly, she was very concerned that somehow, someway, she had royally screwed up the raising of this boy. Right about now would be a _very_ good time for that male role-model.

* * *

The two boys scurried along the street, both clutching a cloth bag. Lifting enough food for a week was a rather daring theft, but there was no way they would just let themselves starve. If they went down, it'd be with a fight.

Gin and Grimmjow had agreed, after nearly a full week of constant arguing, that perhaps leaving the orphanage would be the best idea. Running seemed to be their only hope at that point. They would never be adopted as a pair, and it was getting harder and harder to live alongside people who despised them. And so, after debate, they had settled on a single decision. It was either get out or go down. They had chosen the former.

At first, it had been quite simple. They had made like bandits, taking plenty of food, clean clothes, even blankets. For a few days, they were sure it would all be a piece of cake. After about day three, though, they were forced to revoke the statement. When the second night had failed to grace them with suitable sleeping arrangements, they had been forced to barter their blankets for a small corner in an abandoned church. The place was an apparent gathering for any and all homeless unfortunates, such as themselves. Only problem was getting by the 'bouncers'. After they had parted with the much beloved possessions, it had gotten pretty hellish. Many, desperate and more than half crazy, had carelessly approached them in the night and made away with more than half their supplies before they had realized what had happened. Left with little food or clothing, they had fled. The filthy city streets had claimed the clean status from them, and soon they were just another pair of starving, ragged children. In the area they were in, they barely received a second glance. That kind of sight was far too common.

After a week, they had been forced to adapt. Dirt became comfortable, garbage became edible, and newspaper worked just fine against the cold at night. The two had become a fine pair of thieves, learning from any and all around them. Grimmjow, loud and blundering, played the diversion while the lithe and stealthy Gin snaked his way to the goods. There was a certain nostalgia for Gin, but he couldn't quite place it. Besides, latent feelings were easy enough to ignore with an empty belly.

Things even became easier when they found their own little niche to fill. After a good hard run, preceded by a good, bountiful looting, the boys had found an old textile factory. Luckily enough, the old place had bolts of cloth and sewing materials still lying about. It didn't take long for Gin to become quite efficient with needle, thread, and scissors. He had an unnaturally steady hand and an innate talent for the craft. Soon, they were the best-dressed homeless boys around.

As the years passed, and the two grew more and more, they found themselves pulling in endless luck. Grimmjow had fully immersed himself in work, using his endless stamina and shocking strength to rake in money. Gin, becoming a clothing master, had realized that elaborate outfits sold for more money than he had ever seen at once. As he grew, so did the array of people interested in his work. After nearly ten years of living under the radar, the two now-grown men finally could afford to live in a rented building. They had money saved up, and an education based solely on street smarts. With stability came more opportunities for knowledge, and both flourished under the information age. Things were finally looking up.

Now, if only the nightmares would stop.

* * *

Gasping, Ulquiorra shot up, sheened in sweat. It had been that nightmare again. For weeks, he'd been dreaming the same thing over and over, and his body was starting the feel the repercussions. He hadn't bothered telling his mother. There was really no sense in worrying her, and she's probably freak out besides. She seemed to forget rather easily that, at seventeen, he was more than able to handle himself.

Padding softly down the hall, he gave his mother's door the briefest glance. It was closed. Good. He didn't wish to be caught up this late, and receive the full extent of her questioning. She'd verbally attack him, prying until she got something. And if he didn't let up, she'd grow silent, then pounce when he least expected it. Glancing at the clock, he realized with dismay that, rather than being late, it was early. Very early. With many thanks to his nightmares, he had just successfully woken up three hours early for school. Sitting, he dropped his head on the table. As if school wasn't bad enough, now he'd have to get through a day half-awake!

Closing his eyes, he took a moment to compose himself. It wouldn't do to lose his head. There were far more important things to focus on above his own pitiful misery. Behind him, he could hear soft footsteps, causing him to curse quietly. Of course she had woken up. Of course she would catch him troubling.

"What's wrong, honey?" He flinched, both at the nickname and the kiss his mother placed on his temple. He knew that, behind that gentle and innocent exterior, her devious mind was brewing up evil plans to make him talk. He also knew that she would most likely question him until the sun actually rose and he was literally sprinting for the car. She'd probably make him late for school. Then, directly after school, she'd ask and plead and bug, until he finally caved and told her or taped his own mouth shut. Quite ruthless, really.

Well, he did have to learn from someone.

He turned to face her, mind working. He knew that his nightmares were important, even if they meant piss-all to him. He knew that, if he followed the clues, he'd get closer to realization, and the pieces would fall into place. He knew that, if he listened to himself, he'd finally learn more about _her_. So really, there was only one option for him.

"Mother, have you ever heard of Karakura Town?"

* * *

Sorry for the wait, guys... I'll give you no excuses. Just know that, no matter what, I will NOT put this story on haitus. I've already got the bloody thing written out, so that would be rather regressive on my part. The next chapter will probably be out in about two weeks, when I next get ahold of a computer. So, until then, good day!

Oh, and remember; Reviews are awesome and godly, criticism appreciated, and flames used to toast marshmallows. In fact, anyone who reviews shall have one of those marshmallows. With chocolate and graham crackers if you've reviewed before!

P.S., just to let everyone know, I plan on fifteen chapters. So, I'm now officially one-third to completion! Yeah!


	6. Stories Within a Circle

So... I kinda took forever, eh? Sorry... I'm actually not sure if I have constant readers, really... Maybe the delayed chapter won't be noticed... You never know, right? Well, either was, the next chapter is mostly written, so it won't take long to type out. I've got one day (the 27th) before I move, so I'll try to type it up then. After that, I won't have any free time until early September...

Also, a big thank you to DevilishBea, a first time reviewer and thus a recipient of a perfectly toasted marshmallow. And yeah, I didn't like being mean to Orihime, but I figured it would give her time to mature a bit... I don't think she'll be back for a little bit, at least not in person. I plan on making him about the same age, give or take. As you'll see in this chapter, come to think...

A HUGE thanks to Chinesemidget for your second review. You get a deluxe s'more.

Well, enough talk! The show must go on, regardless of attendance! I hope this chapter satisfies!

* * *

Gin frowned, flipping through countless sheafs of paperwork all the while trying to ignore the constant stream of bitching from behind him. To count, it had been forty-eight minutes of straight yelling. He was actually rather surprised he hadn't been punched or anything yet. Grimmjow was not noted for being the most gracious or patient, while his temper was famous for having an almost instantaneous fuse besides. After staring rather dreamily into space, he decided that the yelling was far too annoying to carry on. Boldly, he interrupted his dear brother's tirade, stretching magnificently and throwing himself across his desk. With his face buried in now-scattered papers, he allowed himself a grin. For the first time in nearly an hour, the room was absolutely silent.

"I'm gonna fucking kill ya, you know tha'?" Gin's shoulders shook slightly with laughter. Grimm must have been in a pretty good mood, to not have sent his sorry ass flying already. However, he still didn't lift his head. He wanted to see how far this could go. It would be uncharacteristic of him to just listen for once.

"Ya know, you've got such a nice, melodious voice. So relaxin'. Why don'cha keep talking, while I take a quick li'l nap." That time, he did get punched. Laughing, he managed a decent retaliation, all the while dodging a fast kick. The blue-haired aggressor was fighting tooth and nail, with unfair shots at that. Even still, both ended the squabble breathless with laughter. He was sure that, if his employees saw him now, they might not be quite so afraid of him.

Still chuckling, he pushed the heavy brute off of him. He had work to do, after all. Shooting him a glare that was rather lack-luster, he settled himself back down at his desk, absent-mindedly shoving the papers back into a pile. "Now, what were ya ramblin' on about?"

Grimmjow just snorted, shaking his head. Only Gin could be a genius and still hold title for stupidest brother in the world. Dunce.

Sitting up, he focused on his older brother. After their romp, he didn't feel quite so blood-thirsty. However, he still had something to say about Gin's plans for him.

"All right, you wanna know what this is 'bout? How 'bout, 'I ain't wearing that piece of shit'? That work for you?"

Gin frowned, long fingers grasping onto the important and slightly drooled upon documents. As he opened his eyes to meet his brother's, he briefly entertained the thought of wrapping said fingers around his neck instead. Only briefly, however, as he had kind of figured this would have happened. Grimmjow, he knew, had a stubborn streak that could outlast a mule. Getting him to wear Gin's own clothing designs was hard enough, but he supposed the frills had been a_ little _much. But it wasn't like Grimmjow didn't know what the job would entail. He'd been warned and everything. Gin made the clothing, and Grimmjow showed it off to the world. What else could a guy with flourescent blue hair be but a model? Not that his dear brother agreed, of course. But that was trivial.

"Now, we did have a deal. I'd make the stuff, an' all you had ta do was parade around in it." Still not looking up, he pulled out a folder and started flipping through it. The less attention he paid to the irate man, the more likely the chances that he'd give up and storm out. Maybe.

Indeed, Grimmjow seemed to fume for a moment longer, then suddenly screamed in frustration. Anyone lesser than Gin may have jumped, but the man was far too used to such vocal demonstrations. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Grimmjow storm out of the room, feeling a bit of pity for anyone who happened to get in his way. He was rather well aware that the office building was busy today, and he wondered how many hospital cheques he'd have to write up now. Loved the man, true, but he was an idiot all the same.

Outside, workers scurried out of the way, leaving the uninitiated to fend for themselves. Running into one such person, Grimmjow pushed the man away before he even had a chance to yelp. With one more yell of rage, Grimmjow kicked open the doors and stormed out. Silence followed in his wake, and it took quite a few minutes before anyone moved. Even then, it was done cautiously and quietly, as though the man would barge right back in and start decapitating people. While their boss, head designer and executive owner Ichimaru Gin was truly disturbing, it was his brother that employees knew to look out for. Gin was prone to cruel little pranks, maybe snide comments here and there. Grimmjow, though... It was better left unsaid the rumours that flew around about that man.

Gin scowled after him, hoping that none of the employees would be too scarred. He was getting tired with all of the hiring and firing, after all. Fiddling with another stack of papers that would probably never get done, he picked one up with the pretense of actually working. Brow furrowing slightly in surprise, he pulled the paper closer to read the last paragraph.

_Just yesterday, the modeling world was dismayed to hear of the departure of one of the country's most iconic faces. Ms. Cipher, one of the best in the business, has told reporters that she will be taking a month-long break from cameras, and hitting some towns and beaches. Fans can't help but think that the problem may be with her teenage son, who has also retreated, but witnesses say that perhaps a man is involved. Could it be that our..._

Scowling even deeper at the gossip spewing from the page, he glanced at the picture accompanying the paragraph. Normally, he avoided these magazines at all costs, but his secretary had given it to him. Apparently, this article was the reason. The woman was most definitely the best in the business, and any designer working with her got instant fame. He supposed that, given his resources, finding her would be no problem. And, let's say, should he run into her... Well, they'd just have to talk. Anything else would be impolite, no? And, if he could convince her to maybe even look at a few things, some designs... Only time would tell. Reading over the paragraph once more, he grabbed for his phone. Time to call in a few favours.

* * *

Stepping of the small plane, Ulquiorra couldn't help but feel extremely disappointed. He had hoped that, after waiting so long, walking into Karakura would bring an onslaught of memories. Honestly, he'd kind of expected it. He'd listened to the obnoxious little voice in his head, flown all the way out here, and was met with no memories in a back-water little town. No evidence of war, no sword fights in the streets, and worst of it all, no orange-haired woman. He began to doubt the intelligence of coming here at all...

"Oh, what a cute little town! This'll be a great vacation, don't you think?" He slowly turned his head to stare incredulously at his mother. The in-flight food must have been drugged. Either that, or he hadn't been vigilant enough and she'd gotten into some alcohol... Either way, he was almost one-hundred percent sure that this would not be fun. In his experience, places that occured in nightmares did not hold joy for the occupants.

Shaking his head, he walked across the tarmac and headed for the gates. He had no idea, really, where he was going, but he relied on instinct to lead him there. Politely he waited for his mother, he carrying their meager luggage in one hand, before he set off again. Regardless of her questioning, he kept refusing to go to the hotel first. There was somewhere he had to go...

Walking almost aimlessly, he was surprised when he suddenly felt an unexplainable tug towards a small building. Looking up, he allowed his eyes to settle on a small, two-story house, obviously a duplex or something of the sort. A small set of stairs led to the front door, and it was there that his eyes held. Dropping the luggage where he stood, he boldly walked up to the door, knocking. His mother, having grown quiet, crept up behind him. The house was rather quaint, and he couldn't help but wonder why he'd been pulled here. Living the lifestyle he had, with money always around, this house should have made no impact on him whatsoever. His only conclusion was that, somehow, this small house had something to do with his dreams. Perhaps the woman...? There was little to no chance of her being there, but on the chance that she was... She would have answers, of that he was sure. His assertive knocking was met with a prompt answer, even if the woman who answered was most definitely neither beautiful or orange-haired, and ancient besides.

"I apologize for bothering you, ma'am, but I am wondering if you know the location of a young woman with orange hair? I believe she used to live here...?" His gaze was intense, countering the polite words he uttered. He was hoping beyond hope that he would get a desirable answer. His mother was watching the scene with a look nearly as intense as her son's and filled with curiousity. Never had her little boy (she swore he flinched even as she thought it) shown much interest in people, let alone ones of the opposite sex...

"Orange hair? Not one of 'em in about twenty years been like that. Lots of brunettes, maybe some blondes, but no freaks like the one your ramblin' about. Sure you didn't hit yer head, boy?" His eyes narrowed at the..._ wonderful _personality of this old hag. But still, he must remain civil. Even though the information was old - twenty years, to be precise - it was his best lead. And a head with no civil tongue got no answers. He'd dreamed of this town, been to this house, and now he would learn about the young girl who plagued him. It would not be a wasted trip.

* * *

The old hag, he decided, needed to be put out of her misery, lest she infect others. After an hour of dancing to her games, eating her dry, old food, and being as polite as humanly possible, she had all but thrown himself and his mother out, telling them to get their information from the 'whatcha-ma-call-it computer'. Yes, she would have to go, and he was more than sure he could find a few willing hitmen. Perhaps someone in-town?

Happily thinking those wonderful thoughts, he let himself into the hotel room, proper food in hand. His mother sat on the bed, fiddling with the TV remote. He couldn't really blame her for being so bored. This small town had very little to offer. Even finding a place that served edible food seemed to be difficult... Handing the brown bag to his mother, he retreated to his bed and leapt for the laptop. He'd have prefered to get on it as soon as possible, but he'd been 'punished' for wandering around in an unknown city to talk to little old women. In retribution, she'd made him wander around an unknown city to track down food and bump into more doting, scarier old women. He secretly vowed to listen to her from that day forward.

Within a few keystrokes, his computer hummed with life. He wasn't really sure what he'd find about a girl who'd not lived in the town for a while, but he was hopeful nonetheless. And if search engines offered nothing, he'd just have to hack or something... Using the only proper information the old lady gave him, he deftly typed 'Inoue', hit enter, and hoped. The information that popped up, while completely useless, was somewhat interesting. Something about a man named Sora. Curious, he guided the mouse over, clicking on the old report. Apparently, a man by the name of Inoue had been hit and killed by a car. Becoming rather bored, he began to scroll down the article. Just as he was about to get out of there, he stopped dead. There, near the bottom of the page, was a picture of a young, orange-haired girl._His _girl. It said that, with the death of the man (apparently her brother, not her father as he had initially guessed), she was now living completely alone. Unfortunately, the paper had nothing else to say on the subject. Rather disgusted with the lack of information, he forged on. He had little use for the paper, especially when he noted the date. With a sinking feeling, he realized that the man had died 28 years ago... How old had she been then? How old was she _now_?

It took a few minutes and more than enough cursing until he got lucky. There was an internet memorial dedicated to one Inoue Orihime, supposedly created by her friends. It was spotty at best, but really the only relevant information thus far. Clicking on the link, he suddenly felt his heart leap. Finally, after searching for so long, there were pictures. First, she was smiling, sitting daintily on the grass. Eating, laughing, even terrified, every moment was captured. At his quiet laugh of seeing her screaming about a man jumping out at her, his mother wandered over.

"That's her, huh? The girl you were talking about?" Her voice was quiet, and held a hint of worry. After all this searching, he'd found the girl he was searching for. Only thing was, he found her shrine. Glancing at the paragraph under the pictures, she felt her eyes water. This young woman had died twenty-five years ago at the tender age of fifteen. What her son was doing, dreaming about a girl who had died long before he'd existed, she didn't know.

Not responding, Ulquiorra scrolled further down. He'd known, deep down, that she'd died. He'd been wishing that wouldn't be the case, but people seldom had strange dreams about boring, _living_ people. At the very bottom of the page, he finally got a proper address. A woman named Tatsuki Arisawa had apparently put the whole thing together, and he knew without a doubt that she could answer more than enough questions. The street, if his memory served, wasn't far from the hotel. Now, he just needed to meet the woman who had loved this girl nearly as much as he did.

* * *

"What a piss-pot town..." Azure eyes swept over the place, ironically matching the view shared by another new arrival not too long ago.

"Now, now. One of the best models in the business is hangin' 'round here, so it can't be all tha' bad..." Regardless of his carefree words, he couldn't help but feel off about the place. There was a disconcerting familiarity. Like he'd been there before. It filled him with something akin to ice water, numbing his chest and suffocating him. Glancing at his brother, he was sure the feeling was shared. Grimmjow was pale, his eyes darting left and right as though he expected an attack.

"You gettin' that feelin' too? This place, it's makin' me nervous..."

"Yeah, but remember tha' it was** your **dumb ass that brought us here. Just **had** to chase after some travellin' broad. Didn't know you were that desperate... Let's jus' get this over with. Feel like this town is gonna go all Stepford or somethin'..."

"Ya read Stepford Wives? Wow, Grimmjow, so cultured. I'm kinda proud of ya." His foxy grin had fully returned, and he playfully punched him in the shoulder. Something as simple as the teasing had dispelled the constricting atmosphere, and for that he was glad.

"Listen, jus' shut the hell up. What the fuck is th' address?" His face had turned red, and he wouldn't meet Gin's eye.

"Oh, now ya want me to talk? And if I refuse? I'm jus' hopin' ya don't come after me with a knife. Don't think I'll make it." Grimmjow was still ranting and carrying on in a rage when Gin saw the flash of blonde and felt his heart jump. Turning on his heel and lurching forward slightly, he managed to neatly fall directly in front of the woman. Ignoring her yelp of panic, he sat up, studying her face and build. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, exactly, but upon giving her a once-over, he was sure she didn't have it.

Staring at him like he may have been on drugs, the woman carefully edged around him, before taking off in a panicked run. For a moment, Gin continued to sit on the ground and stare after her, until Grimmjow's laughter prodded at his pride and he scrambled to his feet. Standing, he glared over at him, mentally preparing for the onslaught of teasing.

"I though' the woman was supposed ta fall for **you**, hey?" His grin was nearly a match to his brother's trademark, and his eyes danced with a rather evil mirth.

Standing in a much more assertive pose, he rather forcibly flicked some invisible dirt off of his person. He didn't really have time nor patience to deal with this humour, and he was still slightly shaken by the blonde woman.

For an unexplained reason, blondes held a powerful sway over him, and never failed to affect his attitude. He related it to his dreams, figuring that, somewhere in his subconscience, his mind was playing cruel tricks on him. Even though he had no cognitive memories of blondes playing any significant role in his life, he always felt that gut-wrenching sorrow and guilt when he saw one. Truly annoying.

A screech broke his conversation, nearly scaring him out of his skin. He saw Grimmjow whip about, eyes wide and alert, fists clenching. He had no idea what kind of creature would make such a sound, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to find out. Yet, he felt the tugging familiarity again, coupled by a strange impulse to follow the sound. Under the penetrating shrieks that were much more constant now, he thought he heard a human voice, calling out in terror. He didn't even realize he was running until he nearly ran into the thing.

First thing to note, he figured, was just the size alone. It was huge. It had a thick, scaled body, with a heavy mask. It looked similar to some kind of insect, and he nearly turned and bolted the other way. He watched in rapt horror as long, skeletal fingers reached out and... Oh God, there was a child.

The boy was running, making poor use of one leg. His face was streaked with tears, and Gin could see the cause of the limp was a pike of some type that was rammed through his leg. He'd never outrun the thing. Through mental awareness alone, he noted that Grimmjow had come up beside him, and made a frightening decision.

"Cover me." He didn't wait for a yes, or even a nod, just rushed forth recklessly toward the poor child. He wouldn't let that kid die, not if he could help.

As the boy caught sight of him, his direction changed and he ran, sobbing, to what he hoped would be safety. There was only a moment of shock as he ran_ through _him before Gin felt his torso explode with pain. His body, limp and unresponsive, was thrown across the street.

Vision already dimming, he could feel that stupid familiarity yet again. He was getting tired of the word, even. Too much was familiar, too much affecting him... Besides, a wound like this, it shouldn't bring back memories. When in the hell had he been injured like this before? Must have been the shock...

Blearily, he heard the monster roaring. Lifting his head fractionally, he caught sight of long, beautiful golden hair and a figure any man would ache to hold. In his shock-induced state, everything almost made sense. He knew, however briefly, how important that woman was, and how adorable she could be. For just that moment, his body, ravaged and torn, felt at peace. His heart, finally, was satisfied. Just before a swelling blackness took him, he caught her eyes, a beautiful blue so pure that it was like looking into the sky, and yet so full of pain that he was swallowed whole. And with that glimpse, he made himself a vow. No matter the cost, no matter the risk, he promised himself that he would heal that woman, even if it was with his dying breath.

Pieces fell into place, and gears began to turn. History has a funny way of repeating itself, for better or worse.

* * *

"Quick, before we lose him..."

"Onto the table here, please."

"Keep him warm, he's losing body heat."

"We'll need to stitch him up... Severe wound..."

"Antiseptic, quickly..."

Lights, voices, warmth, all rushed to him at once. Grimmjow was near, his presence nagging at Gin's mind. Just having him there was enough to relax him, to keep him from moving. If Grimmjow had trusted them to touch him, then they were safe. He could feel a tugging on his chest, and risked opening his eyes to see the cause. Nearly vomiting, he had to look quickly away from the gaping, torn flesh being sewn together by a middle-aged woman.

Upon hearing his heavier breathing, the woman shifted toward him, looking concerned. "Wait, please don't move. Your body won't be able to handle the strain, and we can't afford for you to lose any more blood. You've got a severe chest wound, and moving will tear the stitching. I'm really not sure how much more your body can take..."

His eyes snapped open, staring at her incredulously. Did she _really _just suggest that his body might stop working? As in, _die_? What the hell kind of doctor was she? Suddenly, he noted the lack of bright lights, white-wash walls, annoying moniters. Instead, he was in a smaller room, cozier and with more homey colours, and some strange woman was stitching him up. Was he even still in Karakura? And why the _hell _was Grimmjow not stopping her?

His last action before being snatched again by unconsciousness was to wish his kidneys goodbye. He'd always wondered what it would be like to wake up in a bath tub...

* * *

Watching his brother nearly die was brutal enough, but watching this petite woman sew him back together was a whole new class of disturbing. Of course, he was just glad there was something left to sew... Seeing Gin just run at that monster, he'd thought he'd lost his mind... Yeah, sure, some kid was about to get offed, but was that really worth risking your life? The kid was, what, twelve? That was plenty long enough for a good life! And then there was that woman...

She'd appeared out of nowhere, and just her presence alone had forced him to his knees. For some reason, he couldn't move, even if he'd wanted to. He'd noted that Gin had shifted, trying to see her. He'd always had a thing for blondes, always looked at them. But the way he looked at her... Of course he'd go for the crazy one...

And she was crazy, no doubt about it. Not crazy as in psychotic, but rather serial-killer-coming-after-you-and-your-family crazy. She hadn't looked at them, hadn't even spared a glance to the kid still booking it the other way. She just calmly and without any fear hacked at the thing with a sword. Not one swing, not even two. She went after it like a lumberjack. The thing that had taken Gin out was dead within one blood-filled and gory minute. It was in _pieces_. Then, after staring down at the red, pulpy mass, the beautiful, big-breasted, leggy blonde had just walked off. Not a triumphant laugh, not a backward glance. Hence, _crazy_.

The worst thing was, above even the mortal wound and a crackpot blonde, was the fact that, in that one glance Gin had managed, Grimmjow was sure he had fallen completely and inexplicably in love with her.

* * *

I used references from the book 'The Stepford Wives', not the new movie... Which I've never seen, so for all I know it could coincide anyway. Umm, I'm a bit hesitent to name Ulquiorra's mother, since I don't know what I'm doing with her yet... I admit, I just hate picking names...

Oh, and a huge thanks again to anyone who's reviewed. I meant to throw this in last chapter, but I forgot. I broke the double digits! I know that's a small feat for most writers, but as a first-timer, I'm excited. Next goal; 18.

So please, PLEASE review! Just so I know if people are reading this! I mean, I don't have leverage on you or anything, but a girl can hope. Oh, and I'll never pull the 'no-chapter-til-I-have-X-reviews' thing. If I did that, the story WOULD go on haitus.

Also, before I bail, I'm going to be starting up another story soon. Final Fantasy VII, if anyone's interested. And maybe a Radiata Stories one. If you've never heard of that game, I highly recommend it. It's like sugar for the soul, and with 177 recruitable characters, you're bound to like someone... I think I'm going to try to do one mini-story per character... Lots of work.

**SORRY!** As I was flipping through this fic, I realzied that I'd left the dividers out! I'm sorry! Anyway, the next chapter will be for sure out sometime on the 27. Until then, good day!


	7. Realization of the Third

Ach, now THAT is disappointing! Gone for a week, and not one new review! Ah, who am I to complain? I hit my goal of 18, so I'm still exuberant.

Okay, so I half-promised to get this chapter out on the 27th, but this is close enough. Next chapter won't be out until sometime next week... Not sure how my schedule is, to be honest. It may not be out until the 10th... I'll get it out, that's all that matters.

ALSO! I wish to offer the most heartfelt of thanks to the three wonderful reviewers who put me up to my goal! So, to I'm Made of Wax Larry, I hope this came out soon enough. To crazyfreakazoid, first-time reviewer, I offer a s'more from the previous chapter, still good. Thank you for stumbling onto this story and taking time to review! It means so much, since this is my first story and all... Sometimes I worry that not too many people read it. And, last but most certainly not least, capslock-nanao, whom I now love dearly for giving me oodles of reviews. And yes, you most certainly ARE a constant reader.

And so, with that aside, on with the show!

So, moving out in 6 hours. Should be good. Wish me luck!

* * *

His eyes shifted when he heard a quiet groan. Making his way over, he made sure to erase any signs of stress off of his face. He didn't want Gin to know he had been worried. The guy would be freaked out enough as it was. He watched him try to move, wincing inwardly at the weak whimper his brother let out when it seemed too much a strain on his body. In the end, the silver-haired man just settled with opening his eyes and staring rather hopelessly at the ceiling.

_'At least it ain't a bathtub...'_

"What the hell were ya thinkin'?" Gin shifted his eyes to meet the intense blue gaze. Grimmjow really needed to improve his bedside manners... The glare was filled with a barely contained rage, and his body seemed to throw off an aura of 'a good ass-kicking isn't close to what I'm gonna do to you'. Not pleasant.

"In case ya didn' see, I was savin' a kid, ya idiot! Oh, an' while we're on the topic, the hell were _you_ doin'? I kinda though' 'cover me' was pretty universal! To mos' people, it means, 'make sure I don' get mah ass handed ta me'! I mus' say, gotta congratulate you on th' efficiency!"

"Oh, ok, so ya just wanted me ta jump in there with ya? 'All for one an' one for all', right? Well, maybe I didn' want ta _off myself _just ta save a little snot-nose prick! 'Sides, ya got your cover!"

"Yeah, yer righ'. I got my cover, all righ'. After my gut got pried in ta!"

"Hey, yeah! If you'll kindly shut up, some people have to work in the morning!" Both men, still slightly seething, half-turned to face the source. She was a middle-aged woman, thin and lacking any sort of feminine grace. Her hair, black and straight, was kept cropped close to her neck. Even her posture relayed a brusque attitude. Gin guessed her to be about fifteen years older than his twenty-one. Grimmjow guessed her to be forceful and bossy. Both, as it were, were right.

"Before you both begin shouting questions and yelling stupid things, let me talk. One, you're still in Karakura, and you should be thankful that you made it this far. My sister and I had to practically drag you. Number two, you still do have your kidneys. You talk in your sleep, by the way. Also, we're not gonna charge you, even if it does put our business under. Guess you'll have to make it up to us. You, Blue-hair, you look sound enough to clean up. That's your job from now on, got it?"

Both men just stared at her, mouths hanging open. At least their questions had been answered... Well, the important ones, anyway.

"So... Are you guys... doctors, or what?"

Gin's mouth snapped closed, and he turned his body as much as possible to stare at the dolt beside him. Had Grimmjow not even asked them? What, he just let two strange women drag him along the street, then play around with his insides? And where was the other one? The one that had stitched him up? Also, why the hell was this woman so casual about finding a mauled body in the middle of the road? Even trauma doctors only saw their fair share of mortally wounded patients. Shouldn't she be more disturbed?

"We're physicians. You've landed yourself at the Kurosaki Clinic. I'm Karin, and my sister's name is Yuzu. You'll be formally introduced later. You know, you're pretty lucky to be alive. Yuzu wasn't too sure for a while. Hollows aren't usually known for sparing people. Why anyone would charge full-tilt at one with so little spiritual pressure is beyond me. You guys aren't very smart, are you?"

Gin's mind became a jumble of confusion, anger, and intrigue. This woman carried on like he could understand. He met Grimmjow's eyes, and both gave a small shrug. To hell if they knew.

"Are you telling me that neither of you know what a Hollow is? And yet you **still** tried to take one on? Most people see a monster and tend to run the other way. What's wrong with the pair of you? Are you both insane?"

The expressions of both men darkened, boring into Karin. She scowled, rolling her eyes.

"Don't move. I've just gotta go get some pictures, and I'll explain everything to you through them. They were drawn and left in our care by one of the best Soul Reapers I know, so I expect you'll pick it up fast... If not, then I hold no hope for you."

* * *

He silently cursed the architects who had designed this god-forsaken place. All he had been trying to find was the stupid dojo where that woman Tatsuki took residence, and instead he had gotten lost in some kind of decrepit part of town. And he was supposed to be an honour student…

"Now, what would a young man such as yourself be doing around here?" Turning, Ulquiorra saw a poorly dressed man standing with a rather suspicious brown paper bag. His eyes were shielded by an atrocious green and white hat, giving his face a disturbing shaded effect. The clothing was certainly enough to alarm, but it was the lecherous smile that made him start. The chills he felt in the pit of his stomach could only be described as unadulterated fear.

"Unless you're here for candy? Then, please, come in! Come, come, follow me!" And, gripping his arm in a fashion far too strong to be comforting, Ulquiorra was dragged toward a run-down store.

"Please, sir, I must go. Really, I insist! Sir?" A struggle probably wouldn't do too much as the man had a ridiculously good grip on him. He had half a mind to just throw the guy off and try sprinting, but the other half of his mind argued that the man would probably just hold on until _one_ of them died. His hope of throwing him neatly backfired as the man came to a sudden and unexpected stop, causing Ulquiorra himself to stumble forward, his wrist released.

"So, Mr. Cipher. Would you like me to tell you about Ms. Inoue, or would you still like to run?"

Ulquiorra froze, staring at this shady character who had delved so deeply into his head. Even after using his name so casually, and spilling the name of the woman constantly on his mind, his expression had not changed. He still looked far too disturbing to feel comfortable around.

"What… do you know about Orihime? What can you tell me? Please, I can give you money…"

"No, no, no money. You see, I have a bit of an outstanding debt to the both of you. Now, if you'll allow me to introduce myself… The name's Urahara. Kisuke Urahara.

* * *

Gin frowned, flipping through paper after paper. It was surprisingly difficult to find a trend in local destruction. From what he'd learned at the Kurosakis', a Soul Reaper was assigned to a certain area. Thus, all he had to do was hang around for a bit, and the blonde woman was bound to come back. And, judging by her last performance, she'd be none too subtle about it. Hence, local destruction. Problem was she'd been covering her tracks… He could find nothing, not a shred of a clue.

He had figured that if he had checked over local papers, he could mark down wherever there had been some kind of catastrophic event. So far, the town had been disappointing in its lack of. After nearly two weeks of tracking, he'd gotten positively nowhere. Oh, sure, there had been little events, and he saved each one. But nothing had been conclusive. However, he refused to give up. He knew that his 'pointless quest' was driving Grimmjow crazy, but that was the price he had to pay for having such a good older brother.

Speaking of, the man would be beyond irate by now… Sighing, he closed his books. He wouldn't give up, no, but now seemed like a good time for a break. Picking up the worn journals – his study guide, his information tool, everything he'd ever need – he started towards the main doors. Even with as much research as he had been doing, he was still getting nowhere. It was getting frustrating. And it was getting late. He'd have to hurry… There were limits to Grimmjow's patience, after all.

Looking both ways to avoid any vehicular disasters (his body had taken enough damage, thank you), Gin hurried awkwardly across the street, his back firmly planted away from the library doors. It wouldn't do to get pulled back and get lost in the files and records again. And with the sky looming and looking like it was about to let loose in a vicious storm, the faster he got back, the better.

He frowned a bit, cocking his head. Strange, he'd thought he'd heard something… It wasn't unreasonable to think that it was another person out and about, as it was still pretty early in the evening. But he was sure he hadn't seen anybody when he came out… Whirling around, he surveyed the area. Nothing. Yet, he couldn't help but feel unsettled. After ten more minutes of quiet, he figured it was safe enough. He'd heard nothing else, so it had probably just been a cat. Karakura seemed to have quite the abundance of those, most especially small black ones. Everywhere he'd been, he'd noticed little black cats.

He wandered into a small park, just a small short-cut back to the clinic. The sisters had kindly allowed them to stay for a bit, for which he was grateful. The less he had to spend, the better. It was a nice little walk, too. Peaceful…

Without warning, the ground beside him exploded, sending dirt and rock everywhere. Yelling, he sprinted as fast as his body would take him, ducking for cover under a slide. The monster – Hollow – was about three times his size, dog-like in appearance. Its vision seemed to be lacking, and he couldn't help but sigh mentally in relief. With any luck, the thing would just think he vanished…

Ice crept through his veins as the beast lowered its deformed snout to the ground. Even from where he sat, he could hear the snuffling, dirt kicking up as it exhaled. It would follow his scent, and it would kill him. At twenty-one, he was going to die. It was too late to run, not that he could, and he already knew that fighting wasn't an option. There was only one thing to do. Closing his eyes, he felt any trace of hope leave him.

It roared, putrid breath spilling over him. Just a few seconds more, and he'd be nothing more than strips of meat strewn about. Any second now… Any second…

He cursed his impatience, agitated that it was taking so long. His allotted second was dragging on _forever_. He couldn't even die the way he wanted… Breathing raggedly, he briefly entertained the thought of actually surviving. Maybe it would just go away, or give up, or something?

"Hey, you ok?" Gin jumped, head snapping up. He'd expected teeth, or rank breath, or maybe giant eyes staring at him. He most certainly did not expect to see a young, cocky-looking ginger kid. Just as he registered the spiked orange hair and intense brown eyes, the boy's face registered in apparent shock.

"I-Ichimaru? Ichimaru Gin? What… you-" He cut himself off, staring rather openly. He had either forgotten or simply ignored the giant beast dead at his feet. What was _with_ the people around here? Everyone he had met seemed capable of taking on something the size of a bus. He figured even the old ladies around the place could give him a run for his money…

"How do ya know my name…?" His eyes, previously wide in shock, now narrowed to fix the boy with an intense stare.

"So it really is you…? How'd you survive? Or get to the World of the Living, for that matter? How long have you been here?" The boy just kept babbling, spewing senseless question after question. He was ranting about things Gin couldn't hope to understand. At least he was getting used to it by now… Looking at the boy, he finally used his natural intelligence to muster up the only appropriate sentence he could.

"Huh?"

* * *

"So… Inoue Orihime died…"

"Sadly, yes."

"And now 'lives' in a place called the Soul Society…"

"Indeed she does!"

"As a captain of a large group of Grim Reapers?"

"Soul Reapers, but close enough!"

"Is it even possible for you to let a person finish your sentence, or do you make a common practice of interrupting?" The barely restrained disdain flickered full force before Ulquiorra could quell it again. He was trapped in the man's house, and thusly more or less under his control… Looking across the table, he -presumably- met eyes with his mystery host.

He appeared no older than thirty, and yet he claimed to have personally known a teenaged Orihime. He sat, with all formality, at a traditional Japanese tea table, and yet he made no move to take off his hat. Possibly most disturbing was the way he acted around the small black cat that wondered the store. No, not acted, but _spoke_… Like it understood him…

"She's been waiting, you know. For you." His voice had lost its playful sing-song cheer and pulled Ulquiorra out of his thoughts. "Not that you remember her, but I just thought you should know."

"My 'memories'… You say that I was once one of these beasts, these 'Hollows'. Is it even possible to gain those memories back? How would it be done?"

"Ah, and this is here the game gets interesting. You see, I have a theory about such an event. And an explanation, too. Unfortunately…" And here he threw his hands playfully into the air, a look of amusement just barely covered by regret, "You see, you're not the only one in this situation."

He was awarded a blank look. How many people could possibly be once-dead and returning to a new life with no memories, but wanting to get them back? He shifted impatiently.

"No, I cannot say another word. We must wait until the other players arrive."

* * *

The room was barely furnished for living, and had most certainly never been associated with comfort. A small bed, just barely covered by a wane light cast from a candle stub, sat alone and without linens. Old and decrepit furniture was scattered loosely around the room, leaving empty gaps and bare walls. The only extravagance lay in a marble chess board set squarely on the centre of the worn floors. Many of the white pieces were missing, thrown about and shattered. Only the king and a few small pieces remained, huddled together at one edge. The black pieces were missing few, their forces built together to create an impregnable wall. The only true oddity of the board lay in the direct centre where a queen stood tall.

The piece was a confusion of design, sharing both black and white. She was divided neatly down the middle, like the creator just couldn't decide to whom she would belong. At one side was a stout black rook, protecting against the white half of the board. And on the other side was a thin white bishop, showing no apparent hostility to either. It was merely a guard, not acting on its own.

Slowly creeping into the flickering light, a skeletal hand snaked across the board in a disgustingly graceful movement. Boney fingers knocked over the two 'guardians', wrapping themselves chokingly around the queen. The two pieces, so casually swept aside, rolled off the board and shattered on the ground. It was of little consequence. There was no use for them anymore.

"Now, my little princess, it's just you I need…"

* * *

The trees had long since died, forcing nightmarish shadows across the leaf-matted grounds. Too much light had been poured into the clearing, and everything had been bleached white. It was a dead place. To those who knew of it, there was an eerie similarity to Hueco Mundo. It was why Orihime felt such kinship to the place.

To say she hated Hueco Mundo was not right, but it wasn't wrong either. And so, lost in the indecisiveness of her feelings and the memories of a time long ago, her wandering feet always followed the beat-up path to the old persimmon orchard. It had been long neglected, ever since the war had ended. There had simply been no one to tend it. She also couldn't help but wonder if people had been avoiding the place. She'd heard rumours about Ichimaru's presence still lingering there, trying to keep his beloved trees alive. It was silly, the dead believing in ghosts.

She felt rather than heard the other occupant, and immediately she reset her course towards her. If she didn't hurry, she would disappear. It was disarming how good Rangiku was becoming at it.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou, always a pleasure!"

"You know there are no formalities between us, Orihime. So get of your Captain's High Horse and get over her, unless you don't want to sit with me?" Even though her voice was obviously intending humor, Orihime didn't miss the look of irritation, or the way Rangiku's eyes slid toward the nearest or quickest escapes. She was angry she'd been caught. She hurried over before Rangiku decided to make true to her thoughts.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" She knew her friend would most likely disagree, but she had no idea what else to say. The war had damaged them all, causing a lot of strain between even the best of friends. Even so many years after the war, Orihime herself felt an ache over those they _–she-_ had lost. She could only imagine how her friend felt.

"When I look around here, I think of Hueco Mundo. It was a terrible place, and very lonely, but it had a presence. It had such a strange beauty, one that's hard to describe. Pure, I guess…"

"It's strange, maybe, to think that the most twisted of souls went to such a pure place."

"You really miss that guy, don't you? The Espada…"

"I- I suppose I do… But… I know what I feel for him-"

"'Won't compare'? Don't be so sure. You seem pretty down, even now."

"And… What about you?"

Rangiku froze, eyes hazing slightly. What _did_ she feel? She'd spent so much time trying not to, it was hard to recall. It had been so much more convenient to just block it out that she'd forgotten the turmoil that it caused in her chest. She had tried, at first, to just sleep it all away, but even then the memories had crept in. It was around then, when she'd been a wretched mess just wandering the Seireitei, that Kuchiki had stepped in.

Most took for granted the fact that Byakuya Kuchiki had ever loved. Hell, most forgot he could feel. And yet, for that short time, he'd had his Hisana. And when he lost her… Well, he'd found ways to cope. It was those ways that he showed to Rangiku, comforting her while remaining as aloof as possible, but still there. He had helped her pull back together.

The only problem was, even after he showed her how to lock her feelings inside, there was still some crazy part of her mind that wanted to remember. She supposed it was similar to the way Kuchiki would go to Hisana's grave. And so, she'd find herself wandering through the persimmon trees, remembering when they had been alive and beautiful. She thought about how excited Gin had been when he planted the first tree, right up to when he'd given her the very first, most perfect yield imaginable. It was always here that her walls cracked and weakened, and she found herself crying… There was just so much to remember…

Thinking of the good times made it that much harder to hate him. He'd made her fall in love with him, then betrayed her and died before her eyes. She had every reason to despise him, but she just couldn't.

Damn that infuriating man.

"I think, dear Orihime, that I feel the need to drink. Come on."

"But! I have duties, and papers, a-"

"And sake with your name on it. Just trust me. Come with me, and for just one night let yourself forget. Forget worries, troubles… Forget love, life, death."

"For just one night, be free with me."

* * *

My goodness, what an interesting month that was! First, packing for college, then Cuba, and now starting my classes. It's been interesting, to say the least. My dorm's pretty awesome, though.

Anyways, I haven't even started the next chapter yet (it's planned out, at least), so expect the normal two-week update or whatnot. I'll try to get them done faster, but I'm also doing another story at the moment. Check it out if you'd like (shameless plug).

Oh, and I will NOT be pairing Rangiku with Byakuya, for those who were concerned.

Well, another chapter done! If you could review, love it, like it, vomited upon completion, let me know! I don't really have a goal for reviews, but at least one more would be nice…

Either way, adios for now!


	8. The Hour of Dawn

Okay... Not even gonna give an excuse. I promise. I'll just give you this very Gin-centric chapter, as well as the promise of proper interaction between our couple(s –if I get to Ulquiorra) in the next one. Ok, so on with the show.

* * *

Gin fiddled with the teacup, his eyes downcast as he tried to ignore the scene in front of him. Well, perhaps ignore was too strong a word, but he preferred to keep his best defences when dealing with-

"Huh, so you finally came back, huh? And I'll bet you ran off and got married or something without telling us, right? To Rukia, I bet! You know we're her friends too, right?"

"K-Karin! Don't say stupid things like that! I'd never go an-"

"Stupid comments for a stupid brother."

"How can you say that so unemotionally? Girls are supposed to be kind and caring and nice, aren't they?"

"None of the girls you know are, so I don't know why you think it applies to me."

"You know, as a sister, shouldn't you welcome your brother with open arms or something?"

"No reason to, really. And besides, as a brother, shouldn't you work on not making your other sister cry?"

-THAT. Gin watched as the young man scurried over to his sister, the blonde girl now tearing up. Karin, on the other hand, seemed to be grinning with the success of having the last word. Strange family, this.

The orange-haired boy, Ichigo, had dragged him back here after the fight with the Hollow. Obviously he didn't expect him to know the two women, as his face had been priceless after a casual greeting. Gin soon got forgotten when the argument started up. Really, that was fine with him. It gave him time to reflect.

As they had walked, Ichigo had dumped all sorts of difficult information on him. Some he had understood, most he had not. Ichigo seemed to realize this every once in a while, and even tried to smooth out the confusion with layman's terms. However, it never took long before his mouth got ahead of him and he was back to spewing pointless crap. Talking to this kid was like doing a puzzle with half the pieces missing.

On arrival, the girls had at least the sense to fix him some tea. He couldn't imagine being stuck in the tension-filled room without some kind of pick-me-up. The girls had given him what he needed to be comfortable, then immediately rounded on Ichigo. Through the babbling that followed, he learned that the man was their older brother. Speaking of, he wondered where Grimmjow was. Probably sleeping, come to think. The man was like a cat, sleeping whenever he pleased and only friendly when he wanted something. If the volume carried on the way it had been, he wouldn't be surprised if his own dear brother came out and decapitated them all. That would be bad. Time to end the tirade, he supposed.

Noting that he was still being ignored, he subtly shifted his weight, hoping to draw attention. No fish. Hmm. Next, simply clearing his throat would surely make them remember him! ...No? Now he sighed, already exhausted, and all before he'd even said a word.

"Now, Ah'm real happy yer all reunited an' all, bu-"

"Oh, so now you're gonna ignore me, Ichigo? Whatever happened to the loving brother I once knew?"

"Why would I pay any attention to you, Karin? You're the one insulting me."

"'Scuse me, but we real'y need ta-"

"How about equality, huh Ichigo?"

"How about manners, huh Karin?"

"Oh, please don't fight! He just got back, Karin..."

"H'lo? Ya gonna talk ta **me** at all?"

"We're not fighting, Yuzu. We're discussing."

"Well then, please stop discussing! Our guest is trying to speak!"

Simultaneously all heads in the room whipped in his direction. Most unpleasant. He shifted uncomfortably, at the same time listening for movements in the house. Nothing. Good. His eyes slid open minutely, glancing around before he stood. If he was going to be the centre of attention, might as well make it look _good_.

"Now, Ah'm real happy tha' y'all got t'gether 'gain. But mah brother's gonna wake up if ya keep it up. An', I'd _real'y_ like ta know wha's goin' on..." He trailed off, hoping the knowledge of just how lost he was would seep through. Unfortunately, Ichigo seemed to miss the 'knowledge seeping' part.

"You have a brother? Here? I never would have guessed..." Gin shot him a strange look, causing Ichigo to blush. "Well, you just never, uh... never seemed the type..." His hand had reached up to the back of his head, a slightly embarrassed look on his face.

"Ah neva' seemed th' type, huh? An' jus' how well'd ya know me?" If he could get this kid to talk, he'd be a step closer to knowing _everything_. The kid had already proved to have a big mouth. Maybe he could actually use it for something constructive.

"Well, not too much, to be honest... You're Captain of Third Company. Well, were... Renji is now... Listen, I'm really not the person to tell you this stuff, but I know some people who could do a better job. It's pretty late tonight, so can we please just wait until tomorrow?"

Gin didn't bother masking the eye twitch, simply allowing his irritation to show. Obviously the kid had never _lost his memory_ before. Of course he wouldn't realize how painful it was. Okay, maybe not physically, but he could feel the stress on his mind. If he wasn't crazy by the end of this, he'd be damn-well shocked.

* * *

It was pitch black. Why the HELL was he even awake? He'd been comfy, too... Now, he couldn't seem to close his eyes again. And for Gin, this was a strange occurrence for sure. Shifting, he grabbed a book of the bedside, aiming carefully in the dark. Throwing with accuracy and force, he was pleased to hear a loud grunt. To hell if he was suffering alone.

"Wha' the shit, Gin...? I was sleepin'..."

"Yeah, jus' like ya were all afte'noon. Ya missed th' girls' broth'r."

"The fuck do ya mean, 'missed'? I didn' wanna see him, so how can I miss 'im?"

Gin rolled his eyes, another thing he never did. Ichigo had left not long after Gin agreed to stay. Why he had left, Gin didn't know. Hadn't he said that it was late, and that they would head out in the morning? Well, he supposed he wasn't one to tempt fate too much. The boy said he'd take him, and he was anything if not honest.

"Ah mean, y'ain't gonna see him. He promised tha' he'd take us somewhere t'morrow, so we can learn 'bout... ev'rythin'." His sly look came back. "Well, he promised me. Don' know 'bout you."

He could hear Grimmjow's mouth open, hear the intake of air as he prepared a hissing insult. But all of that became secondary when a scream rang through the air. Gin again was on his feet before he honestly knew what was happening. His body, reacting to the noise, the smell of fresh blood, _instincts_, was no longer his.

The next few minutes were blurry. He was running, yelling, staring at another monster. The shape or size didn't even matter anymore. It was an enemy. It had to die. There were no alternatives. He remembered rushing it, feeling his feet lose traction on the blood. There was so much of it, and pain. Yes, the pain was intense. He was light, faster than he thought possible. He was a tailor, right? It was so hard to remember the details. All so ridiculously blurry.

It's funny, though, how sharp pain can cut through the fog. One moment, he was almost flying, and then the next, he'd been slammed back down. Only there was no more floor. No floor, no blood, only bodies. _His_ body. Why was it there? He was over here... He saw the monster turn, saw its jaws gnashing. As it stepped, he felt a pain greater than the red-hot claws. His eyes followed, once again turning his perception. There was a chain, connecting this pitiful soul to that crushed body. The chain was in the way...

He didn't think that breaking the chain would be so easy. It had given way under his hands, almost like it simply didn't care... Maybe that was the secret. If you gave up, all of your heart, soul, and body went with you. But... Had he given up? Just as he struggled to his feet, a ripping pain crippled his body. Eyes now dimming, he watched as the weak chain devoured itself, heading straight for his heart.

"_-Angiku, ge' down! Yer gonna get yerself ki-"_

"_-uardian lost, then tha' would mean... he must be execu-"_

_Winter, snow, cold, blonde hair. Gods, he loved her._

"_Would ya like me ta save you?"_

"_-uru's pretty eager, huh Ran-ch-"_

"_Takin' a walk... dropped by..."_

"_-too fond o' sad stories..."_

"_-Capture lasted a li'l longer. Farewell, Rangiku. I'm sor-"_

_She tasted sweet, so sweet... He had to protect her... all costs..._

"_...change thin's... end... without Rangiku havin' ta cry..."_

His sword – _Shinsou_ – the name rolled off his tongue. So familiar, so friendly. His hands following the blade, knowing its powers. He _remembered_. Sharp blue eyes holding no compassion, levelled to the Hollow. No more pain.

"Shoot ta kill, Shinsou."

_It felt so good to be alive again.

* * *

_

Mmkie, short chapter. Very sorry, but I didn't want to add anything onto the ending. Might take away some of the effect. And I AM sorry about the late update. School's been long.

Either way, hope you guys liked it, and I am now in the mood to keep writing. I almost lost it for a bit there! Slap me now!

Oh, and some of the quotes are from the manga/anime whatever. I got them off of wiki, if you're wondering.

Reviews and Flames are appreciated!


	9. It All Comes Together

***SORRY FOR THE UPDATE, HAD TO FIX A SPELLING PROBLEM! THANK YOU, D-CHI!***

First, I wanna point out that I'm at a quarter of a hundred reviews! Oh my god! Sorry, it's rather exciting. I'm hoping, one day, to get to maybe 50. I might even cry. Anyways, here you are. I know it's late, which is why I'm posting two at once. The other one is half-done and fully in my head. Won't be but a moment more!

Also, if you're wondering about the 'mass amount of' updates, I went through and corrected a bunch of errors in earlier chapters. I've noticed that a lot of people never make it to the last few chapters, so I'm hoping that it is merely because of the spelling errors. We'll see, I suppose.

* * *

Ichigo paced restlessly, his lower lip receiving the abuse of being chewed on. How in the hell was he supposed to go about this? It made absolutely no sense, and it was killing him. But he couldn't just forget about it, right? _Someone_ had to know...

He forced himself to raise a hand against the door. It was now or never, really... He had to get this over with before morning in the human world. Maybe, by then, he'd know what to do with the traitor-gone-human. Closing his eyes to fortify himself, he knocked briskly on the hard, wooden surface.

"Come in, Kurosaki. Not like your pacing wasn't distracting enough..." Ichigo blinked at the muffled voice, before breaking into a guilty grin. Pushing the door open, he gave the tiny white-haired Captain an apologetic look.

"Sorry, didn't mean to bug you... I just kinda needed to talk, if you've got free time? It's kind of important..."

Toushirou sighed, realizing that, between the members of his Division and the Captains of the others, he was never getting work done. Today seemed to be a day marked with unexpected visitors and annoying guests. At least Kurosaki hadn't asked for food yet... Or called him Toushirou... He stood slowly, his small stature not making much of a difference between sitting and standing, and walked over to a side table where a plain tea set rested. Ever since Rangiku had developed the ability to destroy any paperwork he had with a badly placed tea cup, he'd started keeping it away from his desk.

"So, I just returned from the World of the Living. I've got some interesting news..." He was shifting, as though nervous. Hitsugaya had no idea why the man bothered report to him. He was a Captain. He should be reporting to the old man. Without even bothering to look up, he poured himself a cup of the tea.

"I ran into Ichimaru Gin."

The cup slipped from the young Captain's hand as the words sunk in. He barely registered the shatter, the shards skipping across the floor. Immediately his mind was filled with images of the man, the perpetual grin stretching across his thin, pale face, the cruel, skeletal hands that had killed so many. Most of all, he remembered the blood-curdling scream that had ripped from Rangiku's throat when he had been run through. It was no secret, given his death, that the man had cared for her. And based on her recent behaviour, it could be said that she had felt something for him.

Ichigo chuckled uncomfortably, shifting and rubbing the back of his neck lightly. Well, 'blunt' had not gone well. This posed a bit of a problem for explaining the situation. He glanced at his Soul Pager, noting that he had a few hours to get through to the Captain and get his ass back to the Human World before Gin woke up. He still had to talk to him and his brother... And there lies another problem. He had a _brother..._ How did he explain to one while keeping the other in the dark? Gods, it was all so confusing...

"Listen, I'm sorry to cut off your thoughts and stuff, but I'm on a bit of a timeline... I've gotta get back before they notice I'm gone..."

Toushirou snapped back, turquoise eyes focusing on the tanned man in front of him. "Listen to me, and listen well. I will go with you to report this to Captain General Unohana. You must tell no one else, most especially Matsumoto. She cannot, for any reason, know about this. She has lost enough already." His eyes closed, a frustrated look crossing his face before he sighed. Yes, first thing first, Unohana had to know.

He grabbed his haori, trying not to let Kurosaki see his distress. He would have time to panic later. After everything settled, after the problem was solved. Everything would be fine.

Perhaps that was why, when he stepped out of that office, his body had frozen, his mind had shut off. Everything was not fine. In fact, time had run out.

* * *

Grimmjow stared at the scene, feeling a hopeless wave of déjà vu. Again, he watched Gin get slashed, and again he was sitting on the side lines. When in the hell had he become the pansy? He was supposed to watch over Gin, to fight all the fights for them both. Instead, he did nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. He ran at the beast, a snarl rising up from his chest. No way would he just sit back this time. Not again. The guilt was too damn much.

As he drew closer, his arm moved back to deliver a savage stab. Sure, he might die. Yeah, the thing would probably rip his arm off. But all in all, it was better than the uselessness that flooded his veins. Damned if he let Gin be the hero again.

As his hand moved forward, he suddenly felt a splash across his face. A foul smell washed over him, causing him to retch. His hand touched his cheek lightly, staring at the blackish blood.

"What the hell...?"

He could feel his body crush to the ground and suddenly he worried that the monster had maybe lived. If so he was, to be blunt, completely fucked. That thing had been huge. He felt a pressure on his shoulder, and he squeezed his eyes shut. What a way to go. Monster chow.

"Ya'll righ', Grimmjow?" His eyes snapped open at the voice. It was so _off_, somehow. The pitch, timbre, inflections, that was all the same. Then it hit him. It was the accent. It was thicker, heavier. He wanted to lift his head, see if that really WAS his brother. But the force was still holding him, still hurting.

Gin looked down at him, suddenly letting the overlapped memories brush across his mind. Grimmjow. His brother, his younger twin, and an ex-arrancar. He half expected to see the younger version, the one he grew up with. But now he wondered if the tattoo would be there. It was confusing, having these halves battle over what was right and wrong.

He lessened the crushing spiritual force, waiting for his brother to raise his head. There was one more little detail to take care of. When the pale face and confused eyes met Gin's own, he suddenly let the blood-chilling grin slip in place. His sword flashed before Grimmjow could react and he scored his chest deeply. In a moment reminiscent to his old life, he felt the blood splash his face. Good times, really.

* * *

The muted dripping surrounded them, pushing even the loudest of their small group into silence. A sharp, metallic scent was far too present, and the rushing waters were tinged red. Even an hour after the attacks, the water still ran with blood. It made one wonder how many had died, or lay dying above their heads. If you listened hard enough over the water, you could hear the screams.

Ichigo sat with his head lowered, an exhausted and hopeless air around him. Rukia, at least, had made it... He allowed his eyes to focus on her, watching as Orihime bent over the frail, weak body. The poison had hit her rather hard, it seemed. She had been lying in a pool of her own blood, gagging as she tried to breathe.

He had blamed it on himself, really.

If he'd have gone to her first, saved her... She wouldn't have been in so much pain. As it was, he'd rushed to get her back, inhaling the deadly gases and feeling his own body trying to break down. None of that mattered. Just her. He promised that he would keep her safe, promised that it would never rain again. So he had brought her, by then barely showing life or even form, to Orihime. Even as people died around him.

He supposed that, even though he'd let countless people die, it had been better in the long run. After all, going to Fourth Company was what allowed so many people to escape the deadly air. General panic had spread across the Gotei and already people were fleeing. For most, it had already been too late. But as Ichigo arrived at Fourth, his dying best friend in his arms, begging Orihime to help him, to stop the rain from falling, Hanatarou had grabbed them and pulled them away.

In a tribute to old times, he'd led him to the old paths below the Seireitei. A place where the gas had not leaked, and where the air, while musty, was safe. After saving them, the boy had accepted no thanks, just running off to find others. He told them that the paths ran everywhere, and that he could bring more people to Orihime. They could be saved.

It was mostly because of Hanatarou that there were so many people crammed in the tiny halls. True, they could have spaced out, had breathing room, but Ichigo had a feeling that no one wanted to be alone anymore. Everyone had lost someone, something. Maybe they had all gotten tired of that pain. Not far away, he could see the emotionless Nemu curled tight against a wall. Whether it was because she had actually been mentally shaken or because of the betrayal she felt she had committed, he wasn't sure.

Most of the Captains had made it, he noted dully. It must have been the high level of reiatsu... Not that it mattered. Even with the amount of people who survived, the death tally was still in the thousands. He pulled himself up, slowly walking past the injured and crying. Everyone was waiting to be cured, wondering if they would be all right. How did a civilization like the Seireitei fall so easily?

"Orihime... I need you... I need you to watch over her..." His eyes were downcast, not meeting hers. He was ashamed. Ashamed that it came to a stupid sacrifice, ashamed that he might have to leave them all behind just as things were getting tough. But, above his own existence, his own worth, was the fact that they did need saving. Who else was more fitting to do it? He, the Ryouka that constantly wormed his way into the inner workings of the rule book, or some other noble or proper Shinigami? It had to be him.

The Captain of Fourth, with deep brown eyes sparkling with worry, looked up at him. "Please, Ichigo-san... Don't leave us all behind again." He still noted the name, the honourific. Ever since the death of the Espada, she had been able to meet his eyes, call him by his first name. It was yet another sign that their Orihime was no more.

He managed to give her a shadow of his old smile. He crouched down, a hand lightly seeking Rukia's. "Just make sure she gets better, okay? I'm gonna try to get word out. We need help."

A few people raised their heads, focusing on the bright orange hair. Soi Fon narrowed her eyes at him. "You think that there is anyone out there that will help? Face it, _Captain_ Kurosaki. We're doomed." Her voice held such a bitter edge that people near-by winced and drew back.

Ichigo closed his eyes. "Maybe. Maybe there really is no one to help. But it's our 'only hope', right? Or are you going to just give up so easily? I don't know about you, but I'm not gonna sit back and die. We beat them once, and we can do it again..."

Casting a look about the room, Ichigo suddenly realized that it wasn't just Soi Fon who was scared for the future. Most people in that tiny, dank hallway had fear in their eyes. They were all worried about the fall of the Soul Society, and thusly the collapse of everything they knew and loved. Truly, it would be the end of the world. Suddenly smiling, he lifted a hand up to his brow. In a mocking rendition of a salute, he waved them off. "Have a little faith, will you?"

Still smiling, Ichigo sprinted off into the dark. Time to have another go at saving the world... He wouldn't let them down.

* * *

Hands flew across a scarred chest in a panicked frenzy. He had felt pain and tearing, and Gin... What the hell was **wrong **with that guy? As his hands and eyes worked at finding the gash he **knew** to be there, he came across the chain. Blinking in confusion, he took it in both hands and gave an experimental tug.

"What the hell...?"

"So, ya fin'lly woke up, did'ja? Ah've b'n waitin'... Got li'l bored, too. Nice ta see ya 'gain, though." The voice he should have known better than his own was way too different to be comfortable around. The accent was way too heavy, and a strange malice crept through it like a fog. Grimmjow raised his eyes to stare at those of his twin brother. What the hell was going on...?

Gin himself was perched on a roof, staring down at his 'brother' with a bit of a grin. It was by no means as large as he would normally permit, but he didn't feel the situation called for _that_ much 'happiness'. He was a little unsure as to going about the chain-cutting here. If he cut the chain, then Grimmjow might just go full-Hollow. That, he had decided (while the other was out cold), would not be good. He wanted a coherent, humanoid Grimm. Thus lays the problem. Break the chain, kill the brother? No. Let the body and spirit both sit there? Also a no. So... Perhaps he should get help? **That** was a maybe. He remembered vaguely that one Urahara Kisuke had made his home in this town. All he had to do was find him.

As he mused endlessly, Grimmjow had managed to get to his feet. He did not miss the fact that an exact double lay a few feet away. Nor did he miss the fact that Gin's body was propped against a building. Whole. Where was the wound that the monster had given him? Speaking of... He looked at his own prone body. The lack of blood was startling. The entire scene was off. Brow twitching, he cast a wonderful glare at the 'stranger' on the roof. As his mouth opened to scream at the man, a pale hand flew up.

"Hang on... Ya hear tha'? Wings... 'S a Butterfly..." The confusion was apparent on his face. As a hand reached out to the dark night, Grimmjow could make out the vague outline of a black butterfly. Gin seemed to study it for a moment, before his eyes opened enough to actually become discernable at a distance. Casting the butterfly off, he leapt down.

"We go' problems. Now, Ah'm gonna do som'thin' y'ain' gonna like, so Ah suggest ya duck down an' keep quiet..." Without preamble, he threw a large amount of reiatsu over the town. He was pretty sure that any being with enough sense and Spiritual force would come running. He felt a grin slip into place as he saw a tiny black cat, remembering the strange abundance of them around town.

"So it was you, huh? Ah neva' though' it'd be you followin' me 'round." Crouching, he daintily took one paw between two of his fingers, perhaps trying to emulate a hand-shake. "Real nice ta see ya, Ms. Yoruichi. 'R is it 'Mrs. Urahara' now? Ah don' see 'ny li'l kitt'ns runnin' 'bout..." His attempts at a polite greeting were met with a quick swipe across his nose. Unperturbed, he stood and faced Grimmjow, blood coursing down the lower half of his face. "Ah'll be righ' back, try not ta get eat'n, all righ'?"

Grimmjow's mouth opened once more, this time in indignation, before the man and cat both vanished.

"Seriously... What the fuck?"

* * *

Kisuke suddenly stood up, causing a shocked Ulquiorra to spill tea on himself. Could that man do _anything_ without scaring and/or causing a general panic in others? Ah, other than explain things. No, that caused an immediate urge to kill within the explainee. Giving the man a scathing look, he crept for the phone. Now that his attention was diverted, he could give his poor mother a call. He'd been gone for half the day! She was probably a hair from calling the cops...

A sharp pain, caused by a fan that Kisuke had apparently hidden somewhere in that ridiculous outfit, caused Ulquiorra to recoil. He couldn't quite help the hiss that escaped his lungs. He held his hand, giving the man a dark look. Bastard...

"Now now, as charming a woman as your mother is, it would be disastrous should she appear now. I wouldn't want her to die tonight." Green eyes flew up to darkened greys as the men stared each other down. For the first time since meeting him, Ulquiorra realized that this man was not just a playful fool. He felt the first stirrings of fear. Suddenly the illusion shattered as the man gave him such a silly smile that the younger had to refrain himself from punching him. He was so _infuriating!_

"See, I told you that the others would be along! My dear Yoruichi brings us one now! Isn't this exciting?" His jovial laugh sounded stupid and carefree. If Ulquiorra were any less cautious, he may have already pushed back the stare-down that had happened not thirty seconds ago.

Gin crashed into the yard, sword out and at ready. He wasn't quite sure how he would be received, but better safe than sorry. Upon seeing meeting eyes, both men stared, sizing the other up. Simultaneously, both men broke out into equally false grins.

"Why h'llo there, Kisuke-han! Neva' though' ta see ya 'gain! 'Specially aft'r th' li'l 'vent with those Soul Reapers. Real pity, huh? What'cha call em, Vizards!" The cruel jibes in his voice were not missed.

"Ahh, and my dear Gin! Who would have thought to see you here? And alive, at that! How magnificent. Pity Aizen tried to kill you, hmm?"

Both men had steely gazes and false smiles. With two quick leaps, both also had scratched, bloody faces. The cat paced to the centre, glancing once at each man. Her gaze stayed on Ulquiorra longest, hoping that he would be okay with this. As of yet, he knew the least out of the three revived men. Although, Grimmjow was indeed in second place. The man was always sleeping...

"There is no time to fight! Ichimaru, you received notice from the Soul Society, did you not? We have received word as well... It seems as though we are needed. I wish to know if you are willing to help us?" Her gold eyes flicked over the three men. As expected, Ulquiorra was beyond shocked. The other two, however, had had the shame to lower their heads at the reprimand in her voice. Kisuke even rubbed the back of his head, muttering a quick 'Sorry, Yoruichi' that he didn't entirely mean.

Gin frowned, worry creasing his brow. "Ya rea'ly thin' tha' the Soul Soci'ty got invaded? Seems a tad far-fetch'd, wha' with th' Deathberry bein' there..."

Kisuke sighed now, his playful side hiding again. "Let us fetch that brother of yours, and I'll explain everything that I can."

* * *

As it were, Grimmjow did not seem too happy at being left behind. When Gin had returned with Urahara in tow, the man had cursed until his face matched his hair. Getting him back to the shop, detached from his body as he was, was a little difficult. One (Kisuke) had to guide the soul, while Gin carried his brother's body. He was kinda glad that he'd remembered some basic healing spells, since he'd kind of cut his chest open. It had helped the both of them, really. Gin hadn't been too well off after getting hacked (yet again) by the Hollow.

In the end, the man was calmed and the five sat around a kotatsu, watching the enigmatic man fan himself with bliss. He had served them tea, and then left them to wait for him to, as he put it, 'enlighten' them.

As the time slipped by, the three began to shift. Grimmjow had been forced back into his body with a small bit of help from the black cat herself. After a significant amount of extra-loud shuffling, Kisuke finally snapped his fan closed. His face, having been hidden from the fan, was now displayed. Gone was the cheerfulness and carefree air. He was completely serious now.

"So... I have gathered you all here for the telling of this little story. You see, the reason for your existence... Is all my doing. But, even before I can explain this, perhaps I should grant you understanding?" He had a glint in his eyes, obviously debating. Finally, he stood. "Yoruichi, my dear, keep an eye on our dear Gin. I'm going to borrow these two. Also, perhaps you should get a hold of the beautiful Ms. Cipher. She will want to know where her dear son is." As he opened a door and ushered Grimmjow and Ulquiorra through, he looked back at her. "She may also wish to know how he died."

* * *

For Gin, the next three days or so passed with little events. Basically, he sat about and chatted with the beautiful model that called herself a mother. Really, she looked far too young to have such a role. At least, that was what Gin repeatedly reminded her. Wherever he could score points, the better. Had he any idea what was happening to his brother, he may not have been so focused on getting the woman to wear his designs.

In the mean time, Grimmjow was indeed going through hell. After the childhood in which he grew up, he was determined never to go hungry again. Somehow, however, this man had forced his in a _hole_ and denied him _food_! It seemed the pale little prissy in there with him was suffering more than he was. Little brat was the rich son of a famous woman. He'd probably never even seen an empty cupboard.

The only other thing that worried him was the dangling chain attached to his chest. That dick Urahara had knocked him out, and he woke up like this. Last time he saw the chain, it had been, for starters, whole. It had also been attached to his body. This left the question of where said body was. Knowing that creep of a guy peering down at him, he'd probably sold it on eBay or something...

His eyes widened as the gnawing pain began, leading his eyes down the chain. He could see the last link gnashing and writhing. In a final burst of pain, it freed itself and snapped off. That was thirteen now... He could hear the kid beside him groan in pain, causing him to glance over. The boy's chain was shorter than his own... He glanced again at the leering face. That man knew something...

"Do you know how long you've been down there? Any idea?" He was smiling widely. This prompted the kid – Ulquiorra – to send one hell of a glare in his direction. Grimmjow felt a touch of respect for him. Suddenly the kid screamed, sending chills down his spine. Looking over, he saw the chain going nuts. The whole thing had kicked in, devouring away at itself. The kid had hit the dirt, maybe trying to crush it. Instead, he threw himself back, revealing a pale chest that had been chewed by the vicious thing. The smell of blood was pretty strong, overpowering his other senses.

As he noted the intense pain, he suddenly heard a snarling voice echoing in his head. The chain was eating itself towards his chest, bringing tears to his eyes. But even as the last few links broke, he suddenly felt... nothing. Everything was white, almost blindingly so. He could feel another presence, one that was almost as crushing as Gin's. Looking about, he spied the giant cat creature.

Padding over on delicate silent paws, the cat stood before him. Its muzzle was only inches away from his face. Having this beast so close, every muscle in his body was screaming for him to run. And yet, after looking into those impassive eyes, he couldn't. They were familiar, like he was meeting a friend after a very long time.

"Do you know me, Human?" The voice shook his very core. So focused on this beautiful creature, he barely noticed the crumbling world. Something deep inside his heart pulled at the sight, the voice... He _remembered_...

"..._Pantera..." _

The beast gave a grin that could match Grimmjow's easily. "So, you've chosen a new path, have you? Very well... Grab hold of the hilt, Shinigami!"

Kisuke peered into the hole, rather hoping this would work. Sure, Ichigo had pulled it off, but that kid had been a hybrid. These two... Were they really all that special? He could only hope. It would not be very good if, after all the work he put into this project, they became Hollows. He would have no choice but to kill them after that.

The blast of Spiritual Pressure sent him tumbling back, only to be stopped by a well-placed foot. Turning his head, he was greeted by a (pleasantly so) naked Yoruichi. Really, the woman had no shame. Amusingly enough, the silver-haired man behind her was looking away in embarrassment. Grabbing her offered hand, he pulled himself up.

"Well, here's to hoping that all goes well!" He whipped out his fan, hoping to hide the frown on his face. He owed it to the two of them. If things did not work out... It was better that he had never told Orihime. To raise her hopes with the knowledge, only to have her get crushed by his death... Again, better he never told her. That way, that scenario would never be the case.

He was rather amused to see two bolts of light shoot from the hole. It was so very similar to Ichigo's awakening. '_Please, let the outcome be the same..."_

The two landed not ten feet away, covered with the same dust and creating the same worry. Gin moved forward, a nervous look on his face. Memories returned or not, that was still his _brother,_ dammit! As the dust cleared, the three prepared themselves. Better safe than sorry...

Grimmjow cleared the dust first, grinning magnificently. "Hey, were you really that worried?" He was clothed in the traditional black shihakusho, causing the group to sigh with relief. Ulquiorra stepped beside him, giving a quick glare when the former neatly cut him off. With memories returned, the vague animosity was back as well.

Kisuke looked between the two, allowing a brief, loud laugh. "Welcome, to the both of you. And I must say, I AM-" The sentence was abruptly cut off as Grimmjow's fist was shoved into his gut.

"You're gonna shut up with the pleasantries and explain everything to us, yeah? Like, maybe, why I'm related to that sick fuck?" Gin pretended to look offended.

"Now now, Ah don' see why ya gotta make fun o' ME... Ah'm a nice guy, through an' through." The grin was back in place, hiding any fears he had previously had. He really had been worried. Looking back. He should have relaxed. Grimmjow was far too stubborn to just let himself die.

Ulquiorra stepped forward, grabbing the scruffy man by the collar of his shirt. With a startled squeak, Kisuke found himself eye-to-eye with the bright emerald greens. "You told me that the Onna was waiting for me. I wish to know more, and as quickly as possible. Please."

Kisuke stared back, suddenly allowing a quick smile to flit across his face. Not a mocking one, not this time. It was a true smile, caused by the relief that flooded through his heart. The three of them had survived the trials, and they had changed for the better. It was time to start phase three.

"Now, let us go upstairs. I have my story to tell."

* * *

Okay, next chapter is being uploaded right after this one. Hope I get some reviews! Please! With a cherry and extra chocolate and sprinkles!

Anyways, I hope this flies well with you guys. If you wanna criticize, please don't be afraid to. Also, I personally love flames. They're fun to read. So, if you wanna drop a word, good or bad, please don't be shy!

P.S.: Longest chapter yet! Over 5000 words!


	10. Hearts Unveiled

So much talking... Well, it had to happen, right? This'll probably be another short-ish chapter, and I apologize that they **still** haven't met. They're all being stubborn, I tell you! Good news is, the story is still on track. Based on my skeleton, it should be about 15 chapters long. This means that I'm officially 2/3 finished this story. Booya.

Also, a HUGE 100% thanks to **v son sayian**, the first person to compliment me on Ulquiorra's mom! Never thought I would see the day! So, thank you so much for making my day! I hope you keep reading!

Also, **D-chi**, I'm so happy you gave me a chance! And reading it on your phone! Ah, I'm so happy! I used to do that every night! XD

And, once again, the awesome **Capslock-Nanao**. Oh, the amount I owe you. You've been such a consistent reviewer. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your words. Thank you so much! And Rangiku's kicking around. They will meet and be all cute and such. Maybe. We'll see how she takes it.

* * *

"The first thing you should know is that I did not bring you all back to this world out of pity or spite. I did this because, well, you deserved it. You risked all that you had, all that you could give, to help those that meant something to you."

The four humans sat about the table, with the lithe black cat sitting delicately on Kisuke's head. Tea had been served, and now all eyes were on the enigmatic shopkeeper. He paused in his story to lightly pull Yoruichi off his head, setting her down and absent-mindedly stroking her back. Had he been in a more playful mood, she may have swatted him. With the current mood he was in now, she granted him reprieve. He was far too distracted.

"You, Ichimaru Gin, gave your very life to protect a woman you swore to protect. Even if it meant going against a man you saw as a mentor and, quite possibly, a father. You gave your heart and soul for her." He gave Gin a shaded look, allowing a slight smile before turning to glance at the others. "The both of you offered hearts that were not supposed to exist to a young human who begged for help. And, in doing so, you both saved and killed her. It is because of this, because of Inoue Orihime, that you are both here. I highly suggest thanking her when you see her. And," He smiled softly at Ulquiorra, "I promise you will."

"Now, I owe that young lady more than I can say. She corrected a mistake that I created and I could not fix. To pay her back, I wanted to give her what she wanted most. It's how I thought of this plan, you see."

"I, myself, do not like sad stories. I want this world, and every other world beyond it, to balance. Had I never created the Hogyoku, had Aizen never attached himself to it, you would have never died. Therefore, I destroyed the balance. To remedy this, I decided to fix this balance as much as I could. And, in fixing the balance, I could make that poor, young woman happy..."

He pulled his hat off lightly, dipping his head down to give them a formal bow. "Please, forgive me for forcing you back into this world."

Gin frowned slightly, staring at the man. "Yer ramblin'. If ya don' mind, Ah wanna hear **how** ya brought us back."

Kisuke looked up, shocked at the lack of rage. Sitting, he cleared his throat. "Ah, that's a matter of science, you see. As you may or may not know, the Hogyoku will grant the wishes of those around it. When Ms. Inoue rejected it into nothingness, it latched onto both hers and Aizen's spirits. This is where the situation is not as pleasant."

"Ms. Inoue wished for peace and happiness. Perhaps that is why the Hogyoku allowed itself to be destroyed so easily. She also wished for her dear Ulquiorra. Perhaps, by a chain of thought, she thought of you two as well. Regardless to the reason, I was able to access your spirits."

"When a being dies, their spirits will never be destroyed for good. This would throw off the balance. If every single Shinigami dead or every single eaten spirit were to vanish completely, the basis of our world would collapse. Instead, the spirits are thrown into a kind of 'queue'. They are stuck between the fabrics of worlds, waiting for a chance to re-emerge. It's there that your souls were stuck. Because of the wish, and some of my studies and abilities, I was able to... persuade your souls into an early admittance. At the same time, I made sure that bodies similar to the ones you had once inhabited would enter the world at around the same time."

"The result? I was able to receive a pill form containing memories and personality tweaks for all three of you. I then administered the soul pills to the some infants that I happened to run into at the hospital. It was rather coincidental that they happened to look like you. As for your being born as brothers, and at the same time at that... Well, that was the only time slot I could get, really. Ulquiorra got a bit luckier, being an only child. And born into luxury!" He yelped as he dodged a quick swipe by the blue-haired man, pointedly ignoring the muttered 'asshole'.

After watching the man for a moment longer, he crawled back into a sitting position. The threat was over from that corner. Unfortunately, he did not expect a sharp jab from the silver-haired man sitting across from him. Groaning, he let his head hit the desk. This was the thanks he got? Well...

Yoruichi sighed, jumping lightly on his head once more. "Let me explain the rest, for you will need to know." She looked at Gin, her slitted pupils dilating a tad as she looked over the man. "You already know the gist of it, but not the most important parts." She kneaded her claws lightly into the poor man's head, causing a whimper to emit from him. Sitting primly, she yawned widely before continuing.

"As this fool mentioned, the Hogyoku granted the wishes of those it bonded to just before it was disassembled. Notice the plural of that sentence. It was, if you remember, bonded with Aizen. And, as such, it granted his wish."

"A wish for immortality."

Kisuke suddenly sat up, sending the little cat tumbling down his back. A childish smile was plastered on his face, perhaps hoping to make the situation a little less awkward. The general calming effect was ruined when he screamed, trying to pull an angry, once-again-naked woman from his hair. The other men of the room politely averted their eyes, Gin coughing slightly. He elbowed his brother, noting the side glances he was shooting at the strange woman.

Thankfully, the situation worked itself out rather quickly. In one corner, a rather crumpled and abused Kisuke whimpered. And, in his place at the table, a loosely dressed Yoruichi sat with pride. Perhaps it was the stealing of the scruffy man's cloak that had her smiling while in this situation, but smiling she was.

"Either way, allow me to finish." As she continued to grin, she daintily picked an orange from the bowl on the table. Without moving her head, or even really changing her expression, she whipped the fruit at the man. A clear yelp was heard.

"Aizen wished to be immortal. Now, the wish was not fully complete, and nor was Orihime's. That's why you guys didn't just pop right back up then and there. No, instead he kinda sat around in limbo for a bit. But, the entire time he was there, he slowly gained in strength. Mind you, he's nothing like he was before. And all may have come to nothing, had he not become symbiotic."

"See, he found a partner. One that could help him get right back on that throne of his. And it's because of this partner that the Soul Society is currently on the verge of collapsing."

Gin looked down, worry evident on his face. His reaction, being the only one who knew some of these details, was the most muted. The other two both gasped, Ulquiorra leaning forward in absolute panic.

"Wait, it has been attacked? But... But the Onna! The Onna is there! Is she all right?" The normally calm young man was in near hysterics, his eyes wide and full of worry.

Yoruichi held up a hand, silencing him. "To be honest, we're unsure of how many survived. Right now, we know that Kurosaki Ichigo is the sender of the Butterflies. He mentioned that a good number of them escaped into the underground pathways of the Soul Society. Generally, these paths are only known to the 4th Company. As Orihime is Captain of that particular division, I think it's safe to say that she is alive."

Grimmjow had been uncharacteristically quiet for quite some time, head down in deep thought. "Wait... You said that he found a partner... Who the hell did he get that was able to take down the entire Soul Society? A guy on the inside?" His question created a silence that fell over the group like a heavy blanket. Yoruichi sighed, a frustrated and tired look on her face.

"We're not entirely sure, as of yet... But we have an idea... And, trust me, if it's who we think it is, you guys won't be able to just waltz in. That's why we have an offer for you."

Here, Kisuke finally wormed his way back to the table. He cast wary glances about, knowing that he was targeted by just about everyone at this point. "Ah, and this is what I think should be done..."

* * *

Ulquiorra looked at the hotel with a mixture of fear and guilt. With these new memories flooding him, he was concerned about his reactions to _her_. Would his mother know that he was no longer quite the same? That the little boy she had raised was a beast in another life? And, worse yet, could he burden her with the truth?

With a resigning sigh, he crept up the stairs. _Please, let this go well..._

As soon as he opened the door to the room they shared, he was pounced by the woman he had come to know as his mother. And she was, both by birth and love. She had given him life, raised him, and taught him all he had once known... But with these new thoughts, he couldn't love her with his heart. He had already given it away to another woman, long before his mother had taken a hold of it. And this thought, the realization that he could no longer make her truly happy, hurt him more than he thought they would.

He wrapped his arms around her, knowing that he had to hurt her before he could help the others. He only wished he didn't have to do this...

"Mother... Mother, please focus on me..."

She gave him one more near-vicious squeeze before pulling back. Her face, while showing a tearful side, did not look upset. In fact, she looked angry. He blinked in surprise.

"You, young man, have some explaining to do! I'm told you're leaving for a while, and yet you don't even **try **to call me! Were you younger, you'd have been given a smack and sent to your room!"

He frowned a bit, shifting out of her grasp. "Mother, I can't stay here. I have to go away for a while." His voice was clipped and empty. Better to get this over with. And after he left, after he got his Orihime back, he could come back and explain everything. For now, it was better to be blunt and get this part over with.

She looked at him, searching her boy's face for any hint as to why he was doing this. To be honest with herself, she wasn't upset. He had always been different. Always a bit detached. It didn't shock her that he was leaving. _And besides,_ she thought as she lightly pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, _he'll be back. _

She leaned onto her toes, amused by the fact that the once-tiny boy was a good few inches taller now, and placed a kiss on his cheek. Wrapping her arms around him, she cuddled into him. "Promise me, Ulquiorra, that you let me meet her... It is about her, isn't it?"

He blinked in shock, pulling back a bit. Of course... The woman **had** raised him. Even if he didn't know the whole truth of his life, she still knew how to read him. He smiled slightly, kissing her on the forehead. "I promise, mom, that you will meet her. And I know she will want to meet you as well... I just have one thing to ask of you, before I leave. Please, while I am gone, stay at the Urahara Shoten. The man is strange, yes, but he will keep you safe."

She giggled a bit, stepping back. "Okay, I'll go visit him. But you have to promise me that you'll stay safe, okay? And, in return, I won't ask. Not until you're ready to tell me."

He smiled once more, knowing without a doubt that he would not be leaving her behind for good. And besides, his mother could offer hospitality that he could not. Wouldn't Orihime be surprised?

* * *

Grimmjow had never left the basement. Ever since discovering that he would need to train, and that he was given the resources to do so, he'd been set on raising as much hell as possible. Gin, on the other hand, had a little work to do. After all, he owned a business. Luckily, it didn't take long for him to wrap up the latest shows and pass on the duties to a random underling. If his business went under, he told him, he'd have his head. The leer that had been provided with the comment was sure to assure him success. Good to know that life would go on.

Because it had taken so little time to get along with life as he once had known it, he beat Ulquiorra back to the underground training area. It took approximately one hour for the two to fall back into a semi-agreeable relationship. With the old and new memories, they had had quite a time trying to find a relationship that didn't creep them both out. Sure, they were brothers, but they were also two completely different people, and with very old and very different views of each other.

Gin had once thought that Grimmjow, while bold and amusing, was far too vulgar to really be worth much. He complained, he whined, and he swore like a pirate.

Grimmjow, on the other hand, thought of Gin as a creepy, weird, deceitful little nogitsune*. All he did was slink around, grin, and spew knowledge that no one could have possibly known. He was a master at finding information, and he was a loyal little slave to Aizen. Well, until those last few minutes. Yeah...

In the end, the two wordlessly agreed to treat each other like brotherly rivals. If one succeeded, the other fought to do the same. It was an unhealthily healthy relationship. And one that, somehow, worked for them.

In the background, Kisuke moaned over lost bets and handed hard-earned money to a prancing Yoruichi. How the woman knew how people reacted, he'd never know. But he was sure he'd lost more than enough to the greedy thing. Maybe one day she'd actually buy clothes with the stolen cash... Save them all some near-heart attacks... Not likely, though. She lived to kill him, it seemed.

As the third member of the party arrived, joining the two older men, Kisuke slipped over to sit beside the purple-haired woman. He shot her a quick smile, watching as she giggled and re-counted the cash she had won. Oh yes, she truly did enjoy teasing.

"So, bet you're feeling pretty stupid, huh Kisuke? I told you they wouldn't hate each other. That's what you get, I suppose." She was grinning, obviously proud over her victory.

"You know, I believe I am a bit of a fool... To ignore what is right in front of me..." He was smiling over at his best friend, his ex-captain, and the only person he trusted completely. She, in turn, had looked over at him with mild confusion. Had he just admitted he was wrong about something...?

Taking advantage of her shock, he suddenly leaned forward and captured her lips with his. It was brief, too brief for his liking, but enough to keep him alive. Her presence was almost enough for that, but sometimes just being this close, smelling the scent of wild forests and some kind of light, rich perfume... It was too much. _She_ was too much. Most times, he could escape her, run to another part of the shop and try to forget what she did to him. But seeing these people, people who had been given a second chance to find love, he couldn't honestly say he wasn't jealous.

Perhaps that was why he lost control at that moment. For those wonderful three seconds, he let his true emotions show. He pulled back, noting the shock and light flush on that beautiful face. He stood, knowing he had to make his escape before she crippled him.

As he scrambled to the top of the ladder, he allowed himself to float his hand over his lips. Even if she did beat him... It was well worth it. Worth every hit.

* * *

Still no contact and I'm sorry! But it's coming! And I'll try to make it good! In the meantime, I'm gonna direct everyone here to another AU fic that I nearly cried while reading. A few, if not all, have probably read it all ready, but it's worth the second read... Okay, the story is 'A World Apart' by Princess Kitty1. It's in my favourites. It is SO amazing. Oh, it's a Gin/Ran.

Hopefully her amazing writing style will make you guys forgive me for not putting Rangiku in yet!

Just make sure you come back here! Please!

*Nogitsune – A nogitsune is a mischievous fox spirit that likes to pull pranks and, pending on how bad they are, cause pain to people. They're also called 'Yako'. If you wanna know more about them, go on Wikipedia and check for fox myths. They're in there!


	11. Revelations

*So, I made myself a little promise. If I broke my record number of hits (206), I'd post this chapter immediately. If not, I'd wait a week or so, or until I couldn't POSSIBLY hold it back any longer. But, since I DID get over 206, I'm giving this to you now! I hope you like it!*

So, after playing around with Kisuke and Yoruichi, I've decided that I rather like the pair. So, they'll be making a few more appearances. Like, say, in 2000 words or so. Hope you guys can bear that! And, for SURE, Gin and Rangiku meet next chapter. Oh, and Orihime won't be all depressed, because Ulquiorra's coming for the ride, too.

* * *

Rukia had woken exactly twelve minutes after Ichigo had vanished into the ruins that were the Seireitei. For the next twenty-two minutes, her voice had been the only to ring through the sewers, becoming raw with desperation and fear. Her choked sobs affected everyone, causing people to bury their faces and wish for the noise to stop. Orihime was the only one to try and comfort her, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. And when Orihime fell back in distress, it was Harribel who comforted her captain.

And when Rukia started to claw her way up the wall, it was Uryuu who gently pulled her back. His voice was calming and quiet as his hands sought hers. He pretended not to notice the torn and bleeding nails, instead focusing on keeping her distracted. For a while, it worked. But even he, with his calming presence, could keep her quiet when the bloodied body fell from the 'roof'.

Ichigo had obviously been out in the decaying gas far more than his body was prepared to take. His jaw and chest were nearly unrecognizable through the blood, and his choked gasps overrode Rukia's hysteria.

For a while, they were sure he was a goner. Even out of the cloying gas, his body continued to disintegrate. His hands were becoming a mass of bloodied flesh and bone, stopping Rukia from providing the support she was sure he needed. Instead, she crouched over the man she was sure she loved and cried out to him.

Eventually, Rangiku pulled the broken woman away, hiding her from the sight of the brave, strong man lying near-dead. She didn't want Rukia to face the same pain she had. It was one thing to know that they had died, and another to see it happen.

It was the longest night most had faced, between the insistent glow of Orihime's powers and the sobbing, broken voice from Rukia's heart. Most knew what it was to lose someone, and most couldn't help but join her lamentations. Rangiku, for the first time since Gin's death, let her heart completely weep for him. Her entire body shook, arms tightening around Rukia's petite frame.

People tend to congregate under certain circumstances. Most of the time, we hope to meet under a happy light. Other times, we are not as lucky. As people gathered, remembering those that had been lost, they bonded. All were the same, regardless of history, lineage, or rank. Death had a way of creating this equilibrium. Everyone could, and would, die. That was the nature of life.

Orihime smiled weakly when she saw the huddled group of people, all sleeping and faces tear-streaked. She quietly stepped over a number of them, crouching down to touch Rukia's shoulder. The woman woke almost immediately, lightly pulling out of Byakuya's arms. Her violet eyes were wide with fear, watching Orihime with a look of intense hope and horror. When Orihime managed a smile on her face, Rukia choked out a relieved sob.

She pulled away from the mass of people to run over to the still-unconscious Ichigo. Her hands floated briefly over his face and chest, as if making sure he was truly whole. Then, with a gentle touch that would have shocked him had he been awake, she touched his cheek. When he mumbled and turned his head slightly into her touch, she gasped. He would be _okay_...

Orihime tried not to let it affect her, seeing the love that flowed between the two. It was almost like a double-slap to the face. Not only were they getting what she herself had missed, but Rukia also held the heart of the man she'd promised five lifetimes to. No, she wasn't jealous anymore. That had ended when she had given her heart to Ulquiorra.

It did still hurt, to see the man she had watched for years suddenly fall for this unknown girl. Perhaps, if she had followed the path of her parents, she would have been angry. She may have even hated the girl she now proudly called her friend. It was another what-if that she preferred not to dwell on. There were too many what-ifs... Ones that lead to dangerous thoughts and painful outcomes.

When the night ended (though they could not be sure if it really was night) Ichigo finally woke. He blinked slowly, looking up into the face of the girl that had saved him so many times. He smiled softly, reaching up to touch her face. He ignored the tear stains, focusing instead on the bright, happy eyes.

"Mornin', Rukia..." Any further words were silenced when she fell on him, hands in his hair and lips on his own. His eyes had widened at first, before he slowly allowed himself to relax. It was one hell of a way to wake up, he guessed.

As she pulled away, he pulled her back down into a comfortable hug. It was comfortable, warm, distracting... Wait... Distracting from what...? His mind struggled to remember the info he'd stored in there. It was important...

With a yelp, he sat up, nearly killing the poor girl in his arms. In return, she snarled and responded with a punch strong enough to send him rolling.

"Rukia, what the hell was that for?"

"What d'you mean, 'what was that for'? You almost broke my back! And what was up with that? That was a _moment_!"

His face flamed red as he realized just how many people had been witness to that 'moment'. Ducking his head, he mumbled various apologies under his breath. If he didn't want to get held under water until dead, he should just go along with it. Then, snapping his head up, he looked for the tiny white-haired captain and the buxom blonde. Once again, he was rather grateful for the weakened power of the poison against people with high reiatsu. Well, when they weren't over-exposed. Even the thought of being out in that poison for the length of time that he had... He shuddered slightly. He was thankful he had made it back in one piece. If he hadn't, Rukia would have brought him back just to beat him for his stupidity.

Getting over the mental image of being pummelled by a Chappy-clad Rukia, he walked over to Rangiku. Putting his trademark smile on his face, he crouched down and rested a hand on her shoulder. In return, she gave him a puzzled, curious look. With a glance over at Toushirou, followed by a brisk nod, he turned back the confused woman.

"He's alive, Matsumoto. Ichimaru's in the World of the Living." He smiled even more when he saw her eyes widen with hope, before she collapsed against him. Her body was shuddering against him, choked sobs mixing with laughter.

"That stupid idiot... He promised me... Promised he'd never leave..." She was smiling through her tears, defenses falling from the beautiful face. If ever she could be described as a mess, it would be now. Her hair was frizzed beyond repair, with bags and snot and tears. She was far from the gorgeous woman that defined Tenth's fukutaichou. And, if he could have seen her, Gin still would have said she was the prettiest girl he'd seen.

* * *

Three men huddled together, all whispering in what could be described as a conspiratorial fashion. With quick glances thrown back, they certainly looked suspicious. Kisuke watched them, a single eye narrowed. The other was swollen and black, the only visible evidence from his attempted romantic advances. Really, that woman could be so vicious...

And really, those three were being so immature! Was it really necessary to giggle and gossip about the state of his face? Well, if they were going to make fun of him... Tit for tat, as they say.

He dug through his cloak and, disturbingly, pulled out a loaded syringe. "Ah. This will do nicely." The look he gave them was pure evil. _Oh, let's see them laugh after this..._

He pounced the smallest and youngest of the group, happily jabbing him with the sharp needle. The teen yelped, turning away from him and holding his arm in defense. "Was that really necessary?"

"Oh, but of course! I told you, you won't be able to just waltz into the Soul Society. Not with the situation at hand. This is a remedy to our poison problems! And, before you ask, you **do** need it." His eye glinted brightly, a grin to compete with the silver-haired one firmly in place. Oh, he was enjoying this too much...

Gin sighed, knowing that the sooner they went along with this, the sooner he could get to his Ran. Of course, she was gonna beat his sorry ass, but that was bound to happen at least once in their lives. As long as she didn't kill him, he felt that it would be okay. He stuck his arm out, noting the deflation in Kisuke's vengeful attitude. Perfect! Two birds, one stone!

Grimmjow seemed to read his brother's mind, sticking his arm out without a fight. Kisuke seemed to sulk before jabbing the both of them, and rather cruelly at that. Sure, they could go along with it... Didn't mean he had to be nice...

Yoruichi watched from a distance, a small smile flitting over her face at the childish act of the man who continued to shock her. But... That wasn't his place. She was the one who did the unexpected. Kisuke did what was right. And that differentiation made her fighting spirit flare up. She palmed the serving spoon in one hand, grinning as her mind planned a most devious revenge. Oh, that man would get what was coming.

She slipped the fingers of her free hand into her mouth, letting out a shrill, piercing whistle. She saw all three jump, and most satisfyingly while Kisuke had been injecting himself with the antidote. Now his bruise would match theirs. She grinned, waving the spoon above her head.

"Come on, food is ready! Tessai made it extra-special! She whapped each of the men as they passed, before whipping her arm out and stopping Kisuke, who had been trying to sneak past her. He yelped, backing away and devising new escapes. One did not want to be cornered by this woman.

She stepped in front of him, easily following his sad retreat. He stumbled in his panic to get away, landing on his rear. Hissing slightly in pain, he barely noted the woman until she was hovering a mere inch away. By the time he noted the lack of space, he had stopped breathing. The smell of trees surrounded him, intoxicating him. As he unconsciously leaned forward, she suddenly put a hand on his chest and pushed him down.

Grinning at him, she casually stood up and placed a bare foot on his chest. Leaning forward in an impossibly flexible motion, she narrowed her eyes slightly. "It's not nice to take advantage of a woman, Kisuke..." And, with a quick laugh, she left the stunned man lying on the ground and sauntered off. That would teach him.

* * *

Dinner was served quietly, most people snickering under their breath at the awkwardness of the storekeeper. He was fumbling anything his hands happened to touch, blushing and even stuttering occasionally. It was, as Tessai said, 'endearing'. Grimmjow had been the only one to gag at this. Kisuke had dealt out a massive glare before picking at his food once more.

"Now, before we all start gossiping about one 'handsomely sexy' storekeeper, what say we go over the plans for the Soul Society?" Yoruichi's voice was innocent enough, but her foot had nudged Kisuke with each 'compliment'. He gave her a look too, for good measure.

Sitting forward under the deliciously warm kotatsu, he looked at each person, barring Yoruichi, in turn. "As some of you may have figured out, we face a very dangerous opponent. Poison is not your main enemy, and I cannot guarantee you full protection. And, because I cannot say for sure who the enemy is, there is in fact very little I can really give you."

"From what we know, and what we can piece together, the most obvious person is Kurotsuchi Mayuri. With his sword's abilities, we will not get far into the Seireitei before our bodies start to rot away. Should you breathe in the gas, your innards will dissolve and cause you to choke on your own blood. I can only hope that the remedy I administered will work."

"Kurotsuchi is a very difficult man to predict. He feels no pity or emotional ties to anything, not even the 'daughter' he created from his own flesh and bone. He will go to any lengths to protect himself from opponents, all based on what he knows of them. That's where you come in. You see, everyone thinks you are all dead. He won't be expecting your attacks in the least. It'll give you a chance to get in and save those you can. I suggest getting people out of there and bringing them here. With a wide array of talent at my hands, I can train and refine them to suit any battle plan."

"Also, I will need at least three days more before I let you leave to the Soul Society." His gaze focused on the two ex-Espada. "I wish to teach you both how to access the remains of your Hollow power. I don't know how much you will be able to use, but any is better than none. Also, I will show you both how you will achieve Bankai. It will be hard, and I promise this. But if you truly wish to save that girl, you will listen to every word."

Now his gaze slid over to Gin, lips pressing together in thought. "Don't think you've escaped my training. If possible, I'm going to give you the same opportunity as these two. With a few formulas and shots, I may be able to give you the power of a Vizard."

A think silence had collected over the group, suddenly encouraging Kisuke to whip out his fan and grin merrily. "Now, you all get to bed! The training will start bright and early!"

* * *

After the others had fallen asleep, Kisuke had crept silently out of the house, sparing a backwards glance at the black feline training after him. "I would not advise you to follow me, you minx..."

A scoff was all that answered him, and he noted that the pattering of her paws did not slow or fade away. _So, with me to the end, huh? Thank you..._

He easily tracked his way to old, abandoned warehouses that looked as though they hadn't been touched in years. Eyes quickly picked out the one devoid of animals. Even the bats above couldn't breach the barrier.

He cautiously stepped to the barrier, not sure how his welcome would go. Turning back to look at Yoruichi again, he frowned. "Please, don't follow me in. I don't know how they'll treat you." She gave him a look before perching herself on top of a stack of crates. She wouldn't let him get hurt... The best she could do was try to help him with his battles.

Kisuke sighed, throwing her an amused-unhappy-thankful look. He then turned to the shield and held one hand out, resting it on the cool surface. Without preamble, he felt the barrier give way. He boldly walked in, wondering just how far they would let him get.

They owed him nothing, after all.

* * *

As it turned out, the Vizards had a lot to owe him. And they seemed to enjoy his confusion in not understanding this. In fact, Shinji was positively delighted that Kisuke was rather clueless. Upon entering the dank underground chamber, he was immediately ushered to a small, low table. The other Vizards barely looked up, instead focusing on getting their fair share of rice and bread pudding. The poor man sat in confusion as food was pushed in his direction, words were thrown to him, and welcoming pats given left, right, and center. Some being more enthusiastic than others... He rubbed his shoulder after a particularly 'happy' greeting from a certain Mashiro.

They chattered on for about another twenty minutes, neither singling him out nor ignoring him. He was generally welcomed into their group, as though the event hadn't happened and they were all still Shinigami. It was almost frustrating, how little they seemed to care. He had ruined their lives, forcing them to take shelter in an old warehouse. He had stripped their glory and pride, turning them into the Hollows they hunted.

So why did they give him food? Hospitality? It made no damn sense. He, against better judgement, voiced this thought. He wondered if they were mocking him, leading a lamb to the slaughter. Was that how butchers did it? Be nice, make them follow, right to the hammer...

Shinji had drawn back, narrowed slate eyes looking over the man. Not too long ago, this man had been a bumbling fool, late to meetings and afraid to speak for himself. Now, he had come, on his own, to get questions and, quite possibly, beg for help. The man had indeed grown bold. And that deserved an honest answer.

"We owe all we have to you. And, while it may not seem like much, it's still a good life. We're all together, and we don't have to follow rules anymore. We're able to jump in and help out around here, or just sit back and watch the show. See, if you and the pretty lady hadn't come in and saved our butts, we'd have been sword fodder. How is Ms. Yoruichi, by the way? She was my first lo-" The sandal flew into his face with enough force to leave an imprint.

After a few minutes of solid complaint, the man was able to look once again at Kisuke, his cheek ridiculously swollen. "Tho, it'th because of 'ou tha' we lived. It'th not tho bad here." His blank face and laid-back posture showed that he really did believe this. He actually believed that they all owed Kisuke their lives.

As Kisuke watched the group, seeing them interact and beat on Shinji, he slowly allowed himself to smile, followed by a laugh. It felt like he'd been set free, seeing these people happy. He hadn't brought them down... Soon, he was laughing with Mashiro as they watched Kensei beat the shit out of the abused Shinji. To have everyone laughing away like there were no troubles in the world... It really had been a long time, hadn't it? And how much longer would it be before the people trapped in the Soul Society could laugh like this?

As the group calmed down, he gently cleared his throat, drawing attention to him. "The reason I'm here, to be honest, was to beg help from you. If you'll hear me out, I would be greatly in your debt."

"You? In our debt? Nah, it's us who owe you. We'll hear you out, and we'll help you out. Then we'll be square, and you can stop being a sulking little bastard. We miss the old Urahara." Kisuke raised his head from the quick bow he'd executed, staring in shock at the other. This day was just a series of surprises.

As he left the building that day, black cat in tow, he couldn't stop smiling. "Yoruichi, my dear, we may be able to do this after all..." And, in a quick movement, he scooped her into his arms, laughing quietly. "We may be able to keep them safe."

* * *

"Are you sure that this is a wise idea? We may be wasting time..."

"Shut up, Ulquiorra. No one gives a shit about your opinion."

"My opinion, as well as my blade, will be all that keeps you alive. You're far too stupid to get by on your own, as it were."

"Now, now, le's not ge' inta this. We all 'greed tha' we would get in, look 'round, an' get ou'."

The three stood outside the towering white walls of their old 'home', the reverse crescent trying to shine its meagre light on them. The white sands caused more light than the sad moon did. Gin glanced at the walls, considering their course of action. The recruitment plan may not work as well as planned.

With any luck, there were still some beings of moderate strength kicking about. If they could find a few and force them to help, it would be just a few more hands against their biggest foe. And he was pretty sure a few of them had something against Aizen anyways. The man had not treated the lower ranks with the same 'respect' that the Espada had enjoyed.

The three grouped a bit closer, wondering just how this could go. Sure, the two had their swords, but they could no longer dominate the battlefield with a Release form. Gin was their main attack force, sadly enough. This could either go swimmingly, or fail like a snowball in hell.

Grimmjow had a bet that it would be the snowball one.

* * *

Nelliel sat up, eyes wide with confusion and fear. _There's no way..._ She advanced to the mouth of the cave they currently huddled in, her eyes hungrily scanning the horizon.

_Please, don't let that be who I think it is... Please, we're finally __**happy...**_

She could sense movement behind her as Pesche stepped out, peering ahead with her. "We in trouble, Nel-sama?"

"We might be... Wake up the others. We might have to flee. They seem to be focused on Las Noches, but they may find us yet."

The smaller Arrancar nodded briskly, turning back into the cave. It looked to be a pile of white, really. So many 'refugees', ones that could not defend themselves. Nel was the single strongest left, the only one that could keep them alive. Even the least honest of the group, the ones that were arrogant or vicious, listened to her words. They knew they would die without her. Without meaning to, they had become dependent on her. And, in their dependency, they became more and more like a family. And Nel knew she couldn't risk losing this family that she created.

She turned her back on the pressures, looking at the others. Crouching down, she lightly touched Lilynette's head, waking the girl. Confused eyes met her own, causing a slight smile. The girl had become so quiet since Starrk... Well, best not to think of it. He was her other half, literally a part of her. It was only fitting that she was crushed by his death.

"Come, Lilynette, we need to wake the others. Can you help me?"

She blinked, sleep still crusting her eyes. Then her face turned toward the pressure, more alert already. She almost looked panicked. Nel hugged the tiny girl tightly, hoping to comfort her at least in the slightest.

It didn't take long for the meagre group to get what they owned and wait by the cave's mouth. They were ready to run, if they had to. Nel bit her lip, glancing back at the others.

"Wait here... If I do not return, run and hide. If they are bad, I'll distract them."

Her statement was met with a chorus of disapproval, hands reaching out to grab her. They were trying to hold her back, some even crying. She smiled, hugging each in turn before straightening.

"Sun-Sun, take care of them. Please. I will try to return. Keep down, stay hidden."

She took off running before the others could fully stop her. She had to protect what was hers.

* * *

Okay, chapter 11 is done. I'm on a roll! Next, Gin gets to meet his Ran. And THAT is a promise. And now my laptop is about to die. Hold strong, little laptop!

Anyways, based on this streak, I'm gonna have the next chapter up sooner rather than later. But each time I say this, I post-pone it... Hm. Well, we'll see what happens!

Also, I realize that Lilynette had died with Starrk. Oh well. She's too cute to let go to waste.

Please review! It makes me happy and gets me all excited! From the was things have been going, I might have to start bribing people with food again. That seemed to get more reviews... WELL, I AM in a baking class... Croissants, anyone?


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